CONTINUOU 
VAUDEVILL 


WILL   M.  CRESS 


807. 11        Cressy,  Will  M 

C86i+c      Continuous  vaudeville 


522 


• 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/continuousvaudevOOcresiala 


\ 


u— - — - 


> 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


CONTINUOUS 
VAUDEVILLE 


BY 


WILL  M.  CRESSY 

With  Illustrations  by 

HAL  MERRITT 


J  01  ■  1 


BOSTON:   RICHARD  G.   BADGER 

TORONTO:  THE  COPP  CLARK   CO.,  LIMITED 


Copyright,  191 4,  by  Richard  G.  Badger 
All  Rights  Reserved 


The  Gorham  Press,  Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


/    URL 


INTRODUCTION 

When  you  go  into  a  Continuous  Vaudeville 
Theater  you  expect  to  see  and  hear  a  little  of 
everything.  You  see  a  lot  of  poor  acts,  a  few 
good  ones  and  two  or  three  real  good  ones.  In 
seeking  a  suitable  title  for  this  book  it  struck  us 
that  that  description  would  fit  it  exactly;  so  we 
will  christen  it  — 

CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Old  Stage  Door  Tender 13 

It's  Hard  to  Make  the  Old  Folks  Believe  It  .  22 

Union  Labor 28 

Martin  Lehman  Goes  to  New  York     ...  30 

Some  Hotel  Whys 43 

It  Isn't  the  Coat  that  Makes  the  Man     .      .  45 

One-Night-Stand  Orchestras 48 

"Heart  Interest" 57 

Tommie  Ryan's  Horse 60 

Vaudeville  vs.  the  Legitimate 70 

A  Social  Session 75 

Bigalow  and  the  Big  Six 81 

Never  Again 90 

The  Artistic  Temperament 93 

How  Mike  Donlin  Shrunk 104 

A  Night  in  Bohemia 109 

Breaks .      .      .120 

The  Difference  Between  New  York  and  Can- 

andaigua 123 

Let  Us  Hope 127 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Old  Ship  of  Zion 130 

Fireman,  Save  My  Child 137 

Playing  the   English   Music   Halls     .      .      .  140 

"Woodie" 151 

A  Cork  Man 153 

The  Troubles  of  the  Laugh  Getters  .      .      .159 

Asleep  with  Her  Switch 165 

I  Join  the  Suffragettes 168 

The  Perils  of  a  Great  City 174 

Do  You  Believe  in  Signs? 177 

Closing  Number 180 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Mag  Haggerty's  Horse 60 

"Shun  Lkker" 64 

The  Widow's  Mite 66 

Far  from  Home  and  Kindred 69 

"Why?" 74 

Time  All  Open.     Indefinite'3 78 

"  Good  Morning " 90 

It  Isn't  the  Coat  that  Makes  the  Man      .      .      .      .107 

"Vengeance  is  Mine" 1 17 

One  Sure  (?)  Fire  Revolver 1 18 

"  Give  'Em  the  Gravy" 121 

The  Band  of  Hope 127 

The  Cressys  in  Ireland 153 

Playing  Hoboken 161 

Carrying  "  The  Old  Man  "  with  Her      .      .      .       .162 

"Bring  Her  Hither" 1 72 

The  Perils  of  a  Great  City 174 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


CONTINUOUS     VAUDEVILLE 

THE  OLD  STAGE  DOOR  TENDER 

NATURALLY  if  you  are  going  back  on 
the  stage  to  get  acquainted  with  its  peo- 
ple, the  first  chap  you  are  going  to  meet 
is  the  old  Stage  Door  Tender.  You 
will  find  him  at  every  stage  door,  sitting  there 
in  his  old  arm  chair,  calm,  quiet,  doing  nothing; 
he  is  a  man  of  few  words;  he  has  heard  actors 
talk  so  much  that  he  has  got  discouraged.  He 
sees  the  same  thing  every  week;  he  sees  them 
come  in  on  Monday  and  go  out  on  Saturday;  the 
same  questions,  the  same  complaints,  the  same 
kicks.  So  he  just  sits  there  watching,  waiting 
and  observing. 

He  seldom  speaks,  but  when  he  does,  he  gen- 
erally says  something. 

At  the  Orpheum  Theater  in  Des  Moines  there 
was  an  old  fellow  who  looked  so  much  like  the 

13 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

character  I  portray  in  "  Town  Hall  To-night " 
that  everybody  used  to  call  him  "  Cressy." 
Finally  we  came  there  to  play  and  he  heard  every- 
body call  me  "  Cressy."  He  pondered  over  this 
for  a  day  or  two,  then  he  came  over  to  me  one 
afternoon  and  said, 

"  What  do  you  suppose  they  call  you  and  I 
'Cressy'  for?" 

He  expressed  his  opinion  of  actors  in  general 
about  as  concisely  as  I  ever  heard  any  one  do; 
I  asked  him  what  he  really  thought  of  actors ;  and 
with  a  contemptuous  sniff  he  replied, 

"  I  don't." 


Nobody  in  the  world  could  ever  convince  "  Old 
George  "  on  the  stage  door  of  the  San  Francisco 
Orpheum  that  that  house  would  survive  a  year 
without  his  guiding  hand  and  brain.  Old  George 
was  hired  by  John  Morrisey,  the  house  manager, 
while  Mr.  Myerfelt,  the  president  of  the  Orpheum 
Company,  was  abroad.  George's  instructions 
were  to  admit  no  one  back  on  the  stage  without  a 
written  order  from  Mr.  Morrisey.  A  month  or 
so  afterwards  Mr.  Myerfelt  returned  and  started 
to  go  back  on  the  stage. 

14 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"Here,  here,"  said  Old  George;  "where  are 
you  going?  " 

"  I  am  going  up  on  the  stage,"  said  Mr.  M. 

"  You  are  not,"  said  George,  barring  the  way, 
"  without  a  pass  from  Mr.  Morrisey." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  demanded 
Mr.  M.  "  I  am  Mr.  Myerfelt,  the  President  of 
the  Orpheum  Company." 

"  Yis,  and  I  am  King  George,  The  Prisidint  of 
this  Door;  and  me  orders  is  that  no  one  goes 
through  here  without  a  pass  from  Mr.  Morrisey. 
And  there  is  nobody  goes  through." 

So  deadly  earnest  is  Old  George  in  this  matter 
that,  should  it  be  absolutely  necessary  for  him  to 
leave  the  door  for  a  moment,  he  has  bought  him- 
self a  little  child's-size  slate  upon  which  he  writes 
out  a  detailed  account  of  where  he  has  gone,  and 
why,  and  how  soon  he  will  be  back. 

"  Gone  to  get  a  drink  of  water.  Be  back  in  a 
minute.     George." 

"  Gone  out  in  front  to  ask  Mr.  Morrisey  a 
question.     Be  back  in  three  minutes.     George." 

"Helping  fill  Miss  Kellerman's  tank;  don't 
know  how  long.     George." 

"  Inside  watching  Banner  of  Light  Act. 
George." 

15 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

This  "  Banner  of  Light "  act  was  Louie 
Fuller's  "  Ballet  of  Light,"  consisting  of  eight 
bare-legged  girls  dancing  on  big  sheets  of  glass 
set  into  the  floor  of  the  stage.  George  would  go 
in  under  the  stage  and  watch  the  act  up  through 
these  sheets  of  glass. 

He  said  it  was  the  best  act  that  was  ever  in  the 

house  —  for  him. 

*     *     * 

Old  "  Con  "  Murphy  was  on  the  stage  door 
of  the  Boston  Theater  for  eighteen  years;  his 
hours  were  from  9  A.  M.  to  11  p.  M.,  with  an  hour 
off  for  dinner  and  an  hour  for  supper. 

The  theater  faces  on  Washington  Street  and 
the  stage  door  is  on  Mason  Street.  For  eighteen 
years  Con  sat  in  that  Mason  Street  door  and  only 
saw  Washington  Street  once  in  all  that  time. 

One  day  Eugene  Tompkins,  the  owner  of  the 
theater,  came  along,  stopped,  thought  a  minute, 
then  said, 

"  Con,  how  long  have  you  been  here?  " 

"  Sixteen  years,  come  August,"  said  Con. 

"  Ever  had  a  vacation?  " 

"  No,  sor." 

Tompkins  looked  at  his  watch;  it  was  ten  min- 
utes of  twelve.     "  Well,  Con,"  he  said,  "  when 

16 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

you  go  out  to  dinner,  you  stay  out;  don't  come 
back,  until  to-morrow  morning.  Then  come  and 
tell  me  what  you  did." 

Con  put  on  his  coat  and  went  out;  out  to  the 
first  vacation  he  had  had  in  sixteen  years;  the  first 
opportunity  to  see  what  this  city  he  lived  in  looked 
like.  7  he  first  chance  he  had  had  in  sixteen  years 
to  get  out  into  the  country;  to  hear  the  birds  sing; 
to  see  the  green  fields;  the  trees;  the  flowers  grow- 
ing. 

And  what  do  you  suppose  he  did? 

He  walked  across  the  narrow  alley  and  visited 
with   the   Stage    Door   Tender   of   the   Tremont 

Theater  all  the  afternoon. 

*  *      * 

I  asked  the  Stage  Door  Tender  of  Proctor's 
Twenty-third  Street  Theater  in  New  York  once 
what  he  considered  the  best  act  that  ever  played 
the  house;  unhesitatingly  he  replied, 
"  Joe  Maxwell's  Police  Station  act." 
I  asked  him  why  he  considered  that  the  best. 

"  Ain't  no  women  in  it." 

*  *      * 

An  agent  for  some  fangled  kind  of  typewriter 
as  trying  to  interest  the  Stage  Door  Tender  of 
Keith's  Theater  in  Philadelphia  in  the  machine: 

17 


Vwc 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

11  Now  this  is  just  what  a  man  in  your  position 
wants  and  needs.  You  have  a  lot  of  writing  to 
do  here,  and  nowhere  to  do  it;  now  with  this  ma- 
chine you  don't  require  any  table  or  desk;  you  can 
hold  this  typewriter  right  in  your  lap." 

"  Not  me,  Mister,"  said  the  Door  Man  hastily; 

"  I'm  married." 

*  *     * 

There  used  to  be  a  door  man  at  Keith's  Bos- 
ton House  who  could  tell  more  in  less  words  than 
any  man  I  ever  saw.  One  Monday  morning 
some  actors  came  in  who  had  never  been  in  Bos- 
ton before,  and  they  were  asking  this  old  fellow 
about  the  different  hotels : 

"  How  is  the  Rexford?  "  asked  the  Lady. 

"  Burlesque,"  grunted  the  old  fellow. 

"WhatistheTouraine?" 

11  Headlines." 

"How  about  the  So-and-so  House?"  naming 
quite  a  notorious  hotel. 

"  Been  open  eleven  years  and  had  three  trunks." 

*  *     * 

"  Where  have  I  seen  you  before?  " 

And  the  Judge  at  the  prisoner  leers; 

"  Why,  I  taught  your  daughter  singing." 

"  You  did?  "  said  the  Judge;  "  ten  years" 
18 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Nat  Haines  was  playing  Keith's,  Providence, 
R.  I.  The  act  on  ahead  of  Nat  was  Professor 
Woodward's  Trained  Seals.  One  afternoon  Nat, 
hearing  a  noise,  looked  around  and  there  was  one 
of  the  seals  coming  out  under  the  curtain  behind 
him.  It  took  Nat  just  two  jumps  to  get  off  the 
stage.  An  attendant  came  out  and  captured  the 
seal.  Nat  came  back.  "  Well,"  he  said,  scratch- 
ing his  head;  "  I  have  followed  every  animal  on 
earth  but  a  skunk  and  a  lizard,  and  now  I  have 
got  that.  Humph;  Professor  Woodward's 
Trained  Shad.     I  think  I  will  learn  dressmaking." 

I  once  asked  Ezra  Kendal  how  he  ever  kept 
track  of  those  seven  children  of  his. 

"  I  use  the  card-index  system,"  he  replied  sol- 
emnly. 

*     *     * 

The  Depths  of  Degradation  :  A  man  that  plays 
second  violin  and  double  alto  in  the  band. 

Mary    Richfield    (Ryan   &    Richfield)    had    a 
headache;  the  Los  Angeles  sun  had  been  too  much 
for  her.     She  went  in  to  a  drug  store  and  asked,/ 
the  clerk  for  a  headache  powder.     This  clerk  was 
not  a  first-class  drugger;  he  was  just  a  student; 

19 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

but  he  knew  where  the  headache  powders  were, 
so  he  got  one  for  her ;  got  his  ten  cents  and  started 
away.  Mary  looked  around;  there  was  no  soda 
fountain,  no  water  tank. 

"  Well,  here,"  she  said;  the  young  man  stopped 
and  looked  back  at  her.  "  Where  am  I  supposed 
to  take  this  powder?  " 

"  In  your  mouth,  Mam." 
*     *     * 

One  cold,  blustery  day  several  of  us  were  sit- 
ting in  the  stage  door  tender's  little  room  at  the 
Orpheum,  Denver,  when  the  door  was  thrown 
open  and  in  hurried  a  boy  of  fifteen  or  sixteen. 

"  Where's  Cressy?  "  he  asked  briskly. 

"  Right  here,"  I  answered  in  the  same  manner. 

"  I  want  a  sketch." 

"  All  right." 

"  What  do  you  charge?  " 

"  Five  hundred  dollars." 

"  Gee  Zip!" 

And  he  was  out  the  door  and  gone. 

At  the  Minneapolis  Orpheum  a  chap  with  a  jag 
came  weaving  his  way  out  from  the  auditorium 
and  over  to  the  box-office  window. 

20 


THE  OLD  STAGE  DOORTENDER 

"  Shay,"  he  said  thickly;  "  wha'  do  you  want  to 
hire  such  bad  acters  for?     They're  rotten." 

The  ticket  seller  asked  which  ones  he  objected 
to. 

"  Why,  tha'  oF  Rube,  and  that  gal  in  there ; 
they're  rotten." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?  "  said  the  ticket 
seller;  "that  is  Cressy  and  Dayne;  they  are  the 
Headliners;  they  are  fine." 

The  man  looked  at  him  a  moment,  as  if  to  see 
if  he  really  meant  it;  then  he  asked  earnestly, 

"Hones'ly?" 

"  Certainly." 

For  another  moment  he  studied,  then  as  he 
turned  away,  he  shook  his  head  sadly  and  said, 

"  I  shall  never  go  to  another  vaudeville  show 
as  long  as  I  live." 


~\f 


21 


IT'S  HARD  TO  MAKE  THE  OLD  FOLKS 
BELIEVE  IT 

WE  may  be  Actors  and  Actresses  (with 
capital  "  A's  ")  to  the  public;  we  may 
have  our  names  in  big  letters  on  the 
billboards  and  in  the  programs;  but  to 
The  Old  Folks  At  Home  we  are  just  the  same  no- 
account  boys  and  girls  we  always  were.  We  may 
be  Headliners  in  New  York,  Boston,  Chicago  and 
San  Francisco,  but  back  home  we  are  still  just 
Jimmie  and  Johnnie  and  Charlie  that  "  went  on 
the  stage." 

Charlie  Smith,  of  Smith  &  Campbell,  in  his 
younger  days  used  to  drive  a  delivery  wagon  for 
his  father's  fish  market.  But  tiring  of  the  fish 
business  he  started  out  to  be  "  a  Acter."  At  the 
end  of  five  years  he  had  reached  a  point  where 
the  team  commanded  (and  sometimes  got)  a  sal- 
ary of  eighty  dollars  a  week.  As  driver  of  the 
fish  wagon  he  had  received  eight.  And  he  deter- 
mined to  go  home  and  "  show  them."     Dressing 

22 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

the  part  properly  for  his  "  grand  entre  "  put  a 
fearful  dent  in  his  "  roll  " ;  so  much  so  that  he 
had  to  change  what  remained  into  one  and  two 
dollar  bills  in  order  to  "  make  a  flash." 

But  when  he  struck  the  old  home  town  he  was 
"a  lily  of  the  valley";  he  had  a  Prince  Albert 
coat,  a  silk  hat,  patent-leather  shoes,  an  almost- 
gold  watch  and  chain,  a  pretty-near  diamond  stud 
and  ring  and  the  roll  of  ones  and  twos,  with  a 
twenty  on  the  outside. 

After  supper,  sitting  around  the  fire,  he  started 
in  telling  them  what  a  success  he  was;  he  told 
them  of  all  the  big  theaters  he  had  appeared  in; 
how  good  the  newspapers  said  he  was;  what  a 
large  salary  he  received,  etc.,  etc. 

All  seemed  highly  impressed;  all  except  Father; 
finally,  after  a  couple  of  hours  of  it,  he  could  con- 
tain himself  no  longer,  and  burst  out  — 

"  Say,  when  are  you  going  to  stop  this  dumb 

fool  business  and  come  back  and  go  to  driving  that 

wagon  again?  " 

*     *     * 

Ed  Grey,  "  the  Tall  Story  Teller,"  went  from 
a  small  country  town  on  to  the  stage.  It  was  ten 
years  before  he  ever  came  back  to  play  the  home 
town.     When  he  did  the  whole  town  turned  out 

23 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

en  masse;  the  Grey  family  ditto;  after  the  show 
the  family  was  seated  around  the  dining-room 
table,  talking  it  over.  Mother  sat  beside  her  big 
boy,  proud  and  happy.  The  others  were  dis- 
cussing the  show. 

"  That  Mister  Brown  was  awful  good." 
"  Oh,  but  I  liked  that  Blink  &  Blunk  the  best." 
'  That  Miss  Smith  was  awful  sweet." 
But  not  a  word  did  any  one  have  to  say  about 
"  Eddie."     Finally  he  burst  out  — 
"Well,  how  was  It" 

There  was  an  ominous  pause,  and  then  Mother, 

reaching  over  and  patting  his  knee  lovingly,  said, 

"  Now,  don't  you  care,  Eddie,  as  long  as  you 

get  your  money." 

*      *      * 

I  Cliff  Gordon's  father  doesn't  believe  it  yet. 
cliff  was  playing  in  New  York  and  stopping  at 
home. 

"  Vere   you    go    next   veek,    Morris?"    asked 
Father. 

"  Orpheum,  Brooklyn,"  replied  Cliff. 

"  How  mooch  vages  do  you  get  dere?  " 

"  Three  fifty." 

"  Tree  huntret  unt  fifty  tollars?  " 

11  Uh  huh." 

24 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Father  nodded  his  head,  sighed  deeply,  thought 
a  minute,  then  — 

"  Then  vere  do  you  go?  " 

"  Alhambra,  New  York." 

"How  mooch?" 

"  Three  fifty." 

"Then  vere?" 

"  Keith's,  Philadelphia." 

"  How  mooch  you  get  ofer  dere?  " 

"  Just  the  same;  three  fifty." 

Father  sighed  again,  thought  deeply  for  a  few 

minutes,   then,   with  another  sigh,    said,   half  to 

himself, 

"  Dey  can't  all  be  crazy." 
*     *     * 

Tim  McMahon  (McMahon  &  Chapelle)  had 
a  mother  who  did  not  believe  theaters  were  proper  \X 
and  Tim  had  a  hard  time  getting  her  to  come  to 
see  him  at  all.  But  finally  she  came  to  see  her 
"  Timmite  "  act.  It  was  a  big  show,  ten  acts,  and 
Tim  was  on  number  nine.  After  the  show  was 
over  Tim  went  around  in  front  of  the  house  to 
meet  her;  she  came  out  so  indignant  she  could 
hardly  speak. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter?  Wasn't  I  good?  " 
asked  Tim. 

25 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Yis,  sor,  you  was;  you  was  as  good  as  iny  of 
them;  you  was  better  than  any  of  thim;  and  they 
had  no  right  to  let  thim  other  eight  acts  on  fore- 
ninst  ye :  You  ought  to  have  come  on  first,  Tim- 
mie." 

The  first  time  Josephine  Sabel's  father  and 
mother  saw  her  on  the  stage  she  was  in  the  chorus 
of  a  comic  opera  company  and  was  wearing  tights. 
Mother  ran  out  of  the  theater  and  Father  tried 
to  climb  up  over  the  footlights  to  get  at  Josephine 

and  got  put  out. 

*     *     * 

Charlie  Case  had  been  on  the  stage  for  years 
before  he  ever  got  a  chance  to  play  his  home  town; 
then  he  came  in  with  a  minstrel  show;  he  had  a 
special  lithograph,  showing  him  standing  beside  an 
Incubator,  which  was  hatching  out  new  jokes  every 
minute. 

The  house  was  crowded  and  Charlie  was  even 
more  nervous  than  usual.  Everybody  else  in  the 
show  got  big  receptions;  Charlie  walked  out  to 
absolute  silence.  He  talked  five  minutes  to  just 
as  absolute  silence;  then,  discouraged,  he  stopped 
to  take  a  breath ;  the  instant  he  stopped  the  house 
was  in  a  pandemonium;  they  really  thought  he  was 

26 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

great,  but  hadn't  wanted  to  interrupt  him.     After 

that  he  would  tell  a  joke  and  then  wait;  he  was  a 

knockout. 

Later  he  was  talking  it  over  at  home: 

"  Why,  that  awful  silence  had  me  rattled,"  he 

said;  "  I  couldn't  even  remember  my  act;  I  left  out 

a  lot  of  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  his  father;  "  we  noticed  you  forgot 

to  bring  on  your  Incubator." 
*     *     * 


27 


UNION  LABOR 

A  SONG  and  Dance  Team  (recently 
graduated  from  a  Salt  Lake  City  pic- 
ture house)  got  eight  weeks  booking 
on  the  Cort  Circuit  out  through  the 
Northwest.  The  first  show  told  the  story.  They 
were  bad:  awfully  bad.  But  they  had  an  iron- 
clad, pay-or-play  contract  and  as  the  management 
couldn't  fire  them,  it  was  determined  to  freeze 
them  out.  The  manager  started  in  giving  them 
two,  three  and  four  hundred  mile  jumps  every 
week,  hoping  that  they  would  quit.  But  no  mat- 
ter how  long  or  crooked  he  made  the  jumps  they 
always  showed  up  bright  and  smiling  every  Mon- 
day morning. 

Finally  they  came  to  their  last  stand :  and  it  hap- 
pened that  the  manager,  who  had  booked  them 
originally,  was  there  and  saw  them  again.  He 
could  hardly  believe  his  eyes,  for,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  they  had  been  doing  from  six  to  sixteen 
shows  a  day  for  the  past  eight  weeks,  they  now 

28 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

had  a  pretty  good  act.  As  they  were  getting 
about  as  near  nothing  a  week  as  anybody  could 
get  and  not  owe  money  to  the  manager,  he  wanted 
to  keep  them  along.  He  was  fearful  the  mem- 
ories of  those  jumps  he  had  been  giving  them 
would  queer  the  deal,  but  he  determined  to  see 
what  a  little  pleasant  talk  would  do;  so  he  went 
to  them  and  said, 

"  Now,  boys,  you  have  got  that  act  into  pretty 
good  shape;  and  if  you  like  I  can  give  you  some 
more  time.  And,"  he  hastened  to  add,  "  you 
won't  get  any  more  of  those  big  jumps  either.  I 
was  awful  sorry  about  those  big  fares  you  have 
had  to  pay." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  replied  one  of  the  boys; 
"  we  belong  to  the  Brotherhood  of  Locomotive 
Engineers  and  always  ride  on  the  engine  free  any- 
way." 


29 


MARTIN  LEHMAN  GOES  TO  NEW 
YORK 

MARTIN  LEHMAN  is  the  manager 
of  the  Orpheum  Theater  in  Kansas 
City.  Martin  Beck  is  the  general 
manager  of  the  Orpheum  Circuit. 
Mr.  Beck  had  wired  Lehman  to  come  to  New  York 
at  once.  What  Mr.  Beck  said  went.  So  Leh- 
man went. 

If  there  is  any  one  thing  on  earth  that  Martin 
Lehman  loves  better  than  another  it  is  not  trav- 
eling. He  is  probably  the  only  man  on  earth  who 
can  get  seasick  anywhere  and  everywhere.  A 
sprinkling  cart  will  give  him  symptoms.  His  son 
Lawrence  says  that  he  always  has  to  stand  by  and 
hold  his  father's  hand  when  he  takes  a  bath.  He 
always  walks  to  and  from  the  theater  because  the 
street  car  might  pass  through  a  mud  puddle  and  he 
would  get  seasick.  The  next  worst  thing  in  the 
world  is  a  railroad  train.  He  dies  twice  a  mile 
regularly.  But — Martin  Beck  said,  "Come  at 
once." 

30 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

So,  with  his  suit-case  full  of  Green  River, 
Hermitage  and  other  well-known  mineral  waters, 
a  couple  of  lemons  (who  had  been  playing  for 
Louis  Shouse  at  Convention  Hall  the  previous 
week),  and  his  Orpheum  pass,  poor  Lehman 
boarded  the  night  train  for  Chicago,  hoping  for 
the  best  but  expecting  the  worst  —  and  getting  it. 

He  got  on  board  early  so  he  could  get  into  his 
berth  before  the  train  started.  Lower  seven, 
right  in  the  middle  of  the  car.  He  placed  his  bot- 
tles of  life  preservers  in  the  little  hammock  beside 
him,  punched  a  little  hole  in  the  end  of  one  of  the 
lemons,  closed  his  eyes  and  said  his  evening  prayer. 

The  train  started.  So  did  his  troubles.  The 
train  gained  headway.  Ditto  the  trouble.  But, 
like  his  forefathers  in  far-away  Prussia,  he  fought 
for  freedom.  He  brought  all  the  strength  of  his 
powerful  mind  to  bear.  He  tried  "  The  New 
Thought,"  "Self-Hypnotism,"  "Silent  Prayer"; 
he  tried  every  religious  belief  he  could  think  of 
except  Mormonism.  And  finally  he  slept;  or 
died;  he  was  not  sure  which;  and  he  didn't  mind; 
he  lost  consciousness;  that  was  all  he  cared  for. 

The  next  thing  he  knew  somebody  was  shaking 
him  and  telling  him  to  "  Change  cars!  "  It 
seemed  that  this  car  had  developed  a  hot  box  and 

3i 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

passengers  would  have  to  change  to  the  car  ahead, 
taking  the  same  numbered  berth  in  the  new  car 
that  they  had  occupied  in  the  first  one. 

Poor  Lehman's  getting  up  and  dressing  was 
absolute  proof  of  the  power  of  mind  over  matter. 
But  finally,  with  part  of  his  clothing  on  his  back 
and  the  rest  over  his  arm,  he  managed  to  stagger 
into  the  other  car,  only  to  discover  that  he  had 
lost  his  berth  ticket. 

The  conductor  said  that  the  only  thing  to  do 
was  to  wait  until  the  other  passengers  got  located, 
and  the  berth  that  was  left  would  naturally  be  his. 
It  doesn't  take  a  mind  reader  to  see  what  he  got. 
Upper  number  one;  right  over  the  wheels:  just 
beside  a  smoky  kerosene  lamp. 

As  in  all  good  novels  we  will  now  have  a  line 
of  stars. 

Arriving  in  Chicago,  he  varied  the  misery  of 
the  trip  by  a  taxicab  trip  across  the  city  to  catch 
the  New  York  train :  this  time  drawing  lower  nine. 

"  Troubles  never  come  single."  In  the  seat 
back  of  him  was  a  woman  with  a  baby.  The  lady 
in  front  of  him  indulged  in  perfume  of  a  most  vio- 
lent type.  The  weather  and  the  porter  were 
warm  and  humid. 

32 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

He  went  up  into  the  smoking  room,  but  some 
rude  drummers  were  smoking  in  there  so  he  had 
to  come  back  to  his  seat.  The  lady  in  front  of 
him  said  something  about  people  "  reeking  with 
tobacco  smoke,"  and  took  another  perfume 
shower-bath.  Then  the  porter  leaned  over  him 
to  open  the  window. 

So  the  day  passed,  and  the  night  came ;  and  Leh- 
man went  to  bed.  About  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing the  end  of  the  world  came.  Or  so  Lehman 
thought  for  a  moment.  It  was  afterwards  dis- 
covered that  the  car  he  was  on  had  broken  a  wheel 
and  jumped  the  track.  Upon  coming  to  and  tak- 
ing account  of  stock,  Lehman  found  that  his  in- 
juries consisted  of  one  fractured  bottle,  a  dislo- 
cated vocabulary  and  a  severe  loss  of  temper. 

For  the  second  time  on  this  awful  trip  he  was 
invited  to  "  change  to  the  car  ahead."  The  first 
thing  he  did  was  to  hunt  through  his  clothes  for 
his  ticket.  No  more  of  that  upper  number  one 
business  for  your  Uncle  Martin!  No  sir!  Hav- 
ing at  last  found  it,  he  placed  it  in  his  mouth, 
picked  up  what  there  was  left  of  his  clothes  and 
made  his  way  up  ahead  to  the  other  car. 
'  Tickets!  "  said  the  conductor. 
'You   bet!"   said   Lehman,   taking  the   ticket 

33 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

from  his  mouth  and  handing  it  to  the  conductor. 

The  conductor  took  it,  copied  the  number  on  to 
his  plan,  handed  the  ticket  to  the  porter  and  the 
porter  took  him  in  and  put  him  to  bed  again. 

Lehman  tried  to  say  his  evening  prayer  again, 
but  couldn't  remember  it.  While  he  was  think- 
ing it  over  the  door  at  the  ladies'  end  of  the  car 
opened  and  something  came  down  the  aisle.  As 
this  "  something  "  came  out  of  the  ladies'  apart- 
ment, it  was  presumably  a  woman.  But  Leh- 
man disputes  that  fact  to  this  day.  She  was 
about  six  feet  long,  nine  inches  wide,  ail  the  way, 
and  about  the  color  of  a  cowhide  trunk.  Her 
hair  was  in  curl  papers,  her  teeth  in  her  pocket 
and  her  trust  in  Heaven.  Like  a  grenadier  she 
marched  down  the  aisle  until  she  came  to  the  berth 
where  Lehman  was  trying  to  die  as  painlessly  as 
possible.  Upon  arriving  here  she  pulled  the  cur- 
tains aside,  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  berth, 
jabbed  Lehman  in  the  stomach  with  her  elbow, 
and  said  loudly  — 

"Lay  over!" 

Lehman  groaned,  got  one  look  at  the  female, 
then  placed  both  feet  in  the  small  of  her  back 
and  shot  her  out  on  to  the  floor,  yelling  loudly 
for  the  police. 

34 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

The  car  was  in  an  uproar  in  an  instant.  Leh- 
man was  lying  on  his  back,  shouting  "  Police!  " 
The  female  was  screaming  and  hunting  for  her 
teeth.  The  conductor,  the  porter  and  the  brake- 
man  came  running  in  to  see  whether  it  was  a 
political  discussion  or  just  a  murder.  All  the  old 
lady  could  do  was  to  mumble  and  hunt  for  her 
teeth.  A  man  across  the  aisle  swore  that  he  saw 
Lehman  stab  the  old  lady  with  a  bowie  knife  and 
throw  her  out  into  the  aisle.  The  woman  with 
the  baby  corroborated  him,  excepting  that  she 
thought  he  hit  her  with  a  piece  of  lead  pipe. 

By  this  time  the  old  lady  had  found  part  of  her 
Fletcherizing  outfit  and  informed  the  congrega- 
tion that  she  was  neither  struck  nor  stabbed;  but 
that  her  husband  in  the  berth  there  had  certainly 
gone  crazy. 

There  was  a  sympathetic  chorus  of  "Oh!s" 
from  the  other  passengers  and  the  conductor 
jerked  the  curtains  aside  and  asked  Lehman  what 
he  meant  by  treating  his  wife  this  way. 

"  My  wife?  "  screamed  Lehman.     "  Why  you 

!$! — & — $&'o$ — !     Are    you    calling 

that  old  goat  face  my  wife?  " 

"Sure  that's  your  wife!  Don't  you  suppose 
she  knows?  " 

3S 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Well,  don't  you  suppose  /  know!  Do  I  look 
as  if  I  would  be  the  husband  of  anything  that 
looks  like  that?  " 

The  old  lady  now  caught  sight  of  Lehman  for 
the  first  time. 

"  Why,"  she  gasped;  "  that  isn't  my  husband." 

"  I  know  darn  well  it  ain't,"  said  Lehman. 

"Then  what  are  you  doing  in  my  berth?" 
demanded  the  old  lady. 

"  I  am  not  in  your  berth!  " 

"  You  are  in  my  berth !  " 

"  Let's  see  your  tickets,"  said  the  conductor. 

"  Here  is  mine,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  Lower 
seven." 

"  And  here  is  mine,"  said  Lehman.  "  Lower 
seven." 

The  conductor  looked  at  them  closely;  then 
stepped  back  under  a  lamp  and  looked  at  them 
closer.  Then  he  handed  the  old  lady's  back  to 
her.  Then  he  turned  to  Lehman  and,  handing 
him  his  ticket,  said, 

"  That  is  your  yesterday's  ticket  from  Kansas 
City  to  Chicago."  Lehman  looked  at  it  dazed 
for  a  moment,  then  dressed  and  went  up  into  the 
baggage  car  where  he  sat  on  a  trunk  all  the  way 
to  New  York. 

36 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

E.  M.  Chase,  a  Norfolk  (Va.)  newspaper 
man,  has  for  years  been  collecting  newspaper 
clippings.  The  following  are  from  some  of  his 
rural  exchanges : 

"  The  funeral  was  conducted  at  the  home  by 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Browles  and  was  afterwards  buried 
is  the  old  family  burying  ground." — Lebanon 
{Va.)  News. 

"  Mrs.  W.  G.  Neighbors  is  suffering  with  a 
rising  corn  on  her  foot." —  Lebanon  News. 

"  J.  N.  and  Alfred  Quillen  were  grafting  in 
our  neighborhood  a  few  days  last  week." —  Gate 
City  Herald. 

"  Rev.  W.  C.  Hoover  preached  an  excellent 
sermon  at  the  Union  Chapel  on  last  Sunday,  his 
subject  being  entitled,  '  I  go  to  prepare  a  place 
for  you.'  Rev.  Hoover  and  family  then  spent 
the  rest  of  the  day  with  Mr.  Luther  Armentrout 
and  family." —  Shenendore  Valley  Newmarket. 

"  The  members  of  Moore's  Store  String  Band 
met  Saturday  evening  and  rendered  some  very 
fine  music,  as  follows :  W.  E.  Lloyd,  H.  E. 
Weatherholtz,  V.  M.  Waetherholtz,  B.  H.  Golli- 
day,  C.  S.  Moore  and  26  spectators." — Shenen- 
dore Valley  Newmarket. 

"  Selone  Sours  is  out  after  a  severe  cold. 
37 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Her  daughter  Emma  Sours  is  still  nursing 
her  risings. 

"  Your  scribe  took  a  trip  to  Louray  one  day 
last  week  and  purchased  three  sacks  of  fertilizer, 
one  peck  of  clover  seed  and  a  half  bushel  of  tim- 
othy seed. 

"  We  remarked  to  our  little  son  the  other  day 
that  it  was  going  to  rain,  as  certain  birds  were 
singing,  and  he  said,  '  Pa,  rain  don't  come  out  of 
a  bird.'  " —  The  Page  News. 

There  is  a  sign  over  in  Newark  that  somehow 
doesn't  just  strike  my  fancy;  it  reads  — 
P.  Flem.     Delicatessen. 

A  couple  of  young  country  chaps  wandered 
into  the  lobby  of  Shea's  Theater  in  Toronto  and 
stood  watching  the  people  go  up  to  the  ticket- 
office  window  and  purchase  tickets;  finally  they 
got  into  the  line,  worked  their  way  up  to  the 
window,  then  one  of  them  laid  down  a  two-dollar 
bill  and  said, 

"  Give  me  two  tickets  to  Hamilton,  Ontario." 

"  Irish  Billie  Carrol  "  was  standing  in  the  wings 
at  the  old  Olympic  Theater  in  Chicago,  watching 

38 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

the  show.  There  was  a  chap  on  who  was  one 
of  those  men  who  can  never  let  well  enough  alone ; 
if  he  said  or  did  anything  that  the  audience 
laughed  at,  he  would  immediately  say  or  do  it 
right  over  again.  Billie  watched  him  awhile, 
then  turned  to  his  friend  and  said, 

"  All  the  trouble  with  him  is,  he  always  takes 
three  bases  on  a  single." 

*  *     * 

Barney  Reiley,  then  with  the  Old  Homestead 
Company,  now  the  manager  of  a  theater  in  In- 
dianapolis, and  I  were  walking  down  the  street 
in  Baltimore,  when  the  sun,  shining  through  a 
magnifying  glass,  set  fire  to  an  oculist's  show> 
window. 

"  By  Golly,"  said  Barney,  "  it's  a  lucky  thing 
that  didn't  happen  in  the  night,  when  there  was 
nobody  around." 

*  *      * 

Boston  newspapers  one  week  contained  the  fol- 
lowing interesting  announcement: 

"At  Keith's;  Cressy  and  Dayne;  Don't  fail 
to  bring  the  children  to  see  the  Trained  Dogs." 


39 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


^J 


At  the  Majestic  Theater  in  Chicago  they  have 
a  big,  two-sided,  electric  sign  upon  which  are 
displayed  the  names  of  the  acts  playing  there. 
They  place  the  names  of  two  acts  on  each  side 
and  use  no  periods.  One  week  the  two  sides 
read  — 

11  CRESSY  &  DAYNE  THE  VAGRANTS." 

and 
"ELBERT  HUBBARD  NIGHT  BIRDS." 


Said  the  Actress  to  the  Landlord, 

"  Want  to  see  '  The  Billboard,'  Mister?  " 
Said  the  Landlord  to  the  Actress, 

"  I'd  rather  see  the  board  bill,  Sister." 
*     *     * 

40 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


fe^dte'li 


An  English  actor,  just  over,  was  playing  at  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Theater  in  New  York  City.  He 
was  in  love  with  America  and  wanted  to  see  it 
all  —  quick.     One  night  he  came  to  me  and  said, 

"  I  think  I  will  take  a  run  over  to  Buffalo  Bill's 
place  in  the  morning,  before  the  matinee." 

I  told  him  I  would;  it  would  be  a  good  run  for 
him. 

Buffalo  Bill  lives  in  North  Platte,  Nebraska. 


One  of  the  provincial  music  halls  in  England 
has  the  roof  arranged  like  a  roll-top  desk,  so  that     / 
in  hot  weather  it  can  be  rolled  back,  thus  making  V 
a  sort  of  roof  garden  out  of  it.     An  American 
Song  and  Dance  Team  was  making  their  first  Eu- 
ropean appearance  there;  their  act  was  a  much 

4i 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

bigger  hit  than  they  had  anticipated;  and  when 
they  came  off  at  the  end  of  their  act  one  of  them 
said  delightedly  to  the  other, 

"  Say,  we  just  kicked  the  roof  off  of  them, 
didn't  we?" 

11 1  beg  pawdon,  old  chap,"  said  the  stage  man- 
ager, overhearing  him;  "  it  rolls  off,  you  know." 
*     *     * 

James  Thornton  and  Fred  Hallen  were  com- 
ing out  of  the  Haymarket  Theater  in  Chicago; 
Jim,  who  was  ahead,  let  the  door  slam  back 
against  Fred.  \  / 

"  Oh,  Good  Lord,"  howled  Fred,  hangingfon 
to  his  elbow;  "  right  on  the  funny  bone." 

Jim  looked  at  him,  and  in  that  ministerial  way 
of  his  said, 

"  You  haven't  a  funny  bone  in  your  body." 

A  young  man  asked  me  recently  what  spelled 
success  on  the  stage.  I  told  him  the  only  way  I 
had  ever  found  of  spelling  it  was  W-O-R-K. 


42 


SOME  HOTEL  WHYS 


w 


HY  are  porters  and  bellboys  always 
so  much  more  anxious  to  help  you  out  y 
than  in? 

Why  do  so  many  hotel  bathrooms     s 
have  warm  cold  water  and  cold  hot  water?       \/ 

Why  is  it  that  on  the  morning  you  are  expecting 
company  you  can  never  find  the  chambermaid? 
And  every  other  morning  she  tries  your  door  every 
fifteen  minutes  regularly. 

Why  does  a  hotel  clerk  always  try  to  give  you 
some  room  different  from  the  one  you  ask  for? 

Why  does  a  hotel  cashier  always  look  at  you 
pityingly? 

Why  does  a  bellboy  always  try  to  get  two  quarts 
of  water  into  a  quart  pitcher? 

Why  do  hotels  feed  actors  cheaper  than  they 
do  folks? 

Why  is  a  mistake  in  the  bill  always  in  the  ho- 
tel's favor? 

Why  does  the  landlord's  wife  always  have 
theatrical  trunks? 

43 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Why  do  drummers  always  leave  their  doors 
open? 

Why  does  my  wife  always  try  to  get  a  corner 
table,  and  then  put  me  in  the  chair  facing  the 
wall? 

Why    do    "  American "    hotels    always    have  / 
French  and  Italian  cooks? 

Why  does  the  fellow  in  the  next  room  always 
get  up  earlier  than  I  do? 

Why  does  the  elevator  boy  always  go  clear  to 
the  top  floor  and  back,  when  the  man  on  the  sec- 
ond floor  rings  for  him? 

Why  is  the  news  stand  girl  always  so  haughty? 

Why  does  the  night  clerk  always  dress  so  much 
better  than  the  day  clerks? 

Why  do  I  think  I  know  so  much  about  running 
a  hotel? 


44 


IT  ISN'T  THE  COAT  THAT  MAKES  THE 

MAN 

A  SEEDY-LOOKING  chap  came  up  to 
Roy  Barnes  in  Toronto  and  said  in  an 
ingratiating  way: 
"  I  don't  know  as  you  will  remem- 
ber me,  Mr.  Barnes,  but  I  met  you  down  at  Coney 
Island  last  summer." 

"  Yes,  sure,  I  remember  you  easy,"  said 
Barnes,  grasping  his  hand  in  both  his  own.  "  I 
remember  that  overcoat  you  have  on." 

"  I  hardly  think  so,"  said  the  seedy  party,  try- 
ing to  draw  his  hand  away;  "  I  did  not  own  this 
overcoat  then." 

"No,"  said  Barnes,  "I  know  you  didn't;  but 
I  did." 

Grace  Hazard  has  a  washlady.  Washlady  has 
a  thirteen-year-old  son.  Son  became  infected  with 
the  acting  germ  and  ran  away  to  go  with  Gertrude 
Hoffman's  Company.  His  mother  was  telling 
Mi9s  Hazard  about  it. 

45 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  'Deed,  Mis'  Hazard,  yo'  know  'tain't  right 
for  dat  po'  li'le  innocent  child  to  be  pesterin' 
roun'  dem  theater  houses  dat  er  way.  'Twas  jes' 
dis  ver'  mo'nin'  dat  he's  Sunday-school  teacher 
wuz  sayin'  to  me :  '  Dat  boy  has  got  too  much 
—  too  much  —  intelligence  to  be  in  dat  stage  bus'- 
ness  nohow.'  " 

Hanging  in  each  room  of  the  Great  Southern 
Hotel  at  Gulfport,  Miss.,  is  a  small  sign  stating — . 


GUESTS  CAN  HAVE  BATHS  PRE- 
PARED ON  THEIR  FLOOR  BY  APPLY- 
ING TO  THE  MAID  ON  THEIR  FLOOR. 


A  friend  of  mine  in  St.  Louis  is  a  Police  Cap- 
tain. One  day  he  went  into  a  bank  to  get  a 
check  cashed.  He  was  in  citizen's  clothes  and  the 
paying  teller  did  not  know  him  anyway;  so  he 
said,  \f 

"  You  will  have  to  be  identified,  sir.  Do  you 
know  anybody  here  in  the  bank?  " 

"I  presume  so,"  said  the  Captain  cheerfully; 
"  line  'em  up  and  I'll  look  'em  over." 

46 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Seen  from  the  car  window :     "  Shuttz  Hotel../ 
Now  open." 

On  Elmwood  Avenue,  Buffalo :  "  Organs  and 
Sewing  Machines  tuned  and  repaired." 

*  *     * 

At  the  St.  James  Hotel,  Philadelphia: 

Mrs.  Cressy.  "  Waiter,  have  you  any  snails 
today?  " 

Waiter.     "  No,  mam." 

Mrs.  C.  "What's  the  matter?  Can't  you 
catch  them  over  here?  " 

*  *     * 


47 


ONE-NIGHT-STAND  ORCHESTRAS 

MY  IDEA  of  what  not  to  be  is  Musical 
Director  of  a  Musical  Comedy  play- 
ing one-night  stands.  This  is  the  real 
thing  in  the  Trouble  line. 
Max  Faetkenheuer  was  musical  director  with 
an  opera  company  that  was  playing  through  the 
South.  They  arrived  in  one  town  at  four  in  the 
afternoon,  and  Max  found  the  orchestra  waiting 
at  the  theater.  They  looked  doubtful;  they 
sounded  dreadful.  Individually  they  were  bad; 
collectively  they  were  worse.  During  the  first 
number  the  cornet  only  struck  the  right  note  once 
and  that  frightened  him  so  he  stopped  playing. 
The  clarinet  player  had  been  taking  lessons  from 
a  banjo  teacher  for  three  years  and  had  never 
made  the  same  noise  twice.  There  were  six 
French  horns,  all  Dutch.  The  trap  drummer  was 
blind  and  played  by  guess  and  by  gorry. 

Max  labored   and   perspired   and   swore   until 
7:15;  then  he  had  to  stop  because  the  audience 

48 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

wanted  to  come  in  and  didn't  dare  to  while  the 
riot  was  on. 

"  Now  look,  Mister  Cornet  Player,"  Max  said; 
"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  do;  you  keep  your  mute 
in  all  through  the  show." 

'  Yes,  well,  I  shan't  be  here  myself,  but  I  will 
speak  to  my  '  sub  '  about  it." 

'  What's  the  reason  you  won't  be  here?  "  asked 
Max. 

"  I  play  for  a  dance  over  to  Masonic  Hall." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  bass  fiddler. 

'  We  all  do,  but  the  drummer,"  said  the  flute 
player. 

"  You  do?  Then  what  the  devil  have  you  kept 
me  here  rehearsing  you  for  three  hours  for?  " 
demanded  Max. 

'  Well,"  said  the  cornet  player,  "  we  knew  this 
was  a  big  show,  and  we  presumed  you  would  be 
a  good  director,  and  we  thought  the  practice 
would  do  us  good." 

"  It  will,"  said  Max. 

On  another  occasion  he  struggled  all  the  after- 
noon with  a  "  Glee  Club  and  Mandolin  Serenad- 
es' "  orchestra.  Finally,  by  cutting  out  all  solos, 
playing  all  the  accompaniments  himself,  and  con- 

49 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

fining  the  "  Glee  Club  "  to  "  um-pahs,"  he  got 
everything  figured  out  except  the  cornet  player; 
he  was  beyond  pardon;  so  Max  said  to  him, 

"  I  am  awful  sorry,  old  man,  but  you  won't  do; 
so  you  just  sit  and  watch  the  show  to-night." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  Not-Jule-Levy,  "  then  I  don't 
play,  eh?" 

"  You  do  not  play,"  said  Max. 

"  All  right  then;  then  there'll  be  no  show." 

"  Why  won't  there  be  a  show?  "  asked  Max. 

"  Because  I  am  the  Mayor,  and  I  will  revoke 
your  license." 

He  played. 

*     *     * 

At  some  Southern  town  we  played  once  with 
"  The  Old  Homestead  ";  the  rehearsal  was  called 
for  4:30.  At  4:30  all  the  musicians  were  there 
but  the  bass  fiddler. 

"  Where  is  your  bass  fiddler?  "  asked  our  di- 
rector. 

"  Well,  he  can't  get  here  just  yet,"  replied  one 
of  the  other  players. 

"When  will  he  be  here?" 
'  Well,  if  it  rains  he  is  liable  to  be  in  any  min- 
ute now;  if  it  don't  rain  he  can't  get  here  until 
six  o'clock." 

50 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  What  has  the  rain  got  to  do  with  it?  " 
"  He  drives  the  sprinkling  cart." 

The  worst  orchestra  I  ever  heard  was  with  an 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  show  playing  East  St.  Louis. 
It  consisted  of  two  pieces;  a  clarinet  and  a  bass 

fiddle,  each  worse  than  the  other. 

*  *     * 

At  North  Goram,  Maine,  I  once  hired  an  en- 
tire brass  band  of  twenty-two  pieces  to  play  for 
an  entire  evening  of  roller  skating  in  the  town     / 
hall,  for  three  dollars.     They  were  worth  every  ^ 

dollar  of  it. 

*  *      * 

In  one  of  my  plays  I  issue  a  newspaper  called 
The  Wyoming  Whoop.  At  the  top  of  the  first 
column  are  the  words  — "  In  Hoc  Signo  Vinces." 
One  day  one  of  the  stage  hands  came  to  me  with 
a  copy  of  the  paper  in  his  hands,  and  pointing  to 
this  line,  said, 

"That  means  'We  Shoot  to  Kill,'  don't  it?" 

*  *     * 

My  wife  was  in  a  hair-dressing  parlor  in  Cleve- 
land; the  girl  who  was  doing  what  ever  she  was 
doing  to  her,  discovered  that  she  was  the  Miss 
Dayne  at  Keith's  Theater.  w 

5i 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Oh,  say,"  she  said,  "  I  wish  you  would  tell 
me  something." 

"  Yes?  what  is  it?  "  asked  Miss  D. 

"  Is  that  old  man  that  plays  on  the  stage  with 
you  as  homely  as  he  looks?  His  face  is  just  like 
one  of  those  soft  rubber  faces  that  the  men  sell 
on  the  street;  the  ones  you  pinch  up  into  all  sorts 
of  shapes.  He  doesn't  look  as  bad  as  that  all 
the  time,  does  he?  " 

Miss  D.  told  her  that  there  was  not  much  choice. 

*  *      * 

Jim  Thornton  was  playing  his  first  engagement 
for  Kohl  &  Castle  in  Chicago.  As  he  came  off 
from  his  first  show,  he  stopped  in  the  wings  to 
watch  the  next  act.  A  gentleman  came  along, 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder  and  said,  J 

"  You  are  not  allowed  to  stand  in  the  wings 
here." 

Jim  looked  at  him  a  moment,  then  said, 

"  And  who  are  you?  " 

"Who  am  I?     I  am  Kohl." 

"  You  belong  in  the  cellar,"   and  Jim  turned 

back  to  watch  the  show. 

*  *      * 

William  Cahill  was  playing  Paterson,  N.  J., 
"and  living  at  his  home  at  the  furthermost  end  of 

52 


y 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Brooklyn.  Three  hours  and  a  half  each  way, 
twice  a  day.  A  friend  meeting  him  on  the  ferry 
said, 

"  You  are  playing  Paterson  this  week,  aren't 
you,  Bill?" 

"  A  little,"  replied  Bill,  "  but  I  am  going  and 

coming  most  of  the  time." 

*  *      * 

I  met  Fred  Niblo  on  Broadway: 
"  Hello,  Fred,"  I  said;  "  I  went  by  your  house 
this  morning,  and  — " 

"  Thank  you,  Bill,"  he  said,  grasping  my  hand 

and  shaking  it  heartily. 

*  *      * 

Clifford  &  Burke  were  playing  Shea's,  Buffalo. 
There  was  also  a  bare-back  riding  act  on  the  bill. 
There  is  a  very  old  lady  who  comes  around  the 
theater  every  night  selling  laundry  bags,  money 
bags  and  such  stuff  to  the  actors.  She  had  seen 
Clifford  &  Burke's  act  several  times  and  knew  that 
they  finished  up  their  act  with  a  dance. 

Friday  night  she  was  sitting  in  our  dressing 
room;  Clifford  and  Burke  were  on  the  stage  when 
she  came  in  but  had  finished  their  act  and  gone 
to  their  room,  although  the  old  lady  didn't  know 
this.     The  horse  act  was  on  and  the  old  horse 

S3 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

galloping  around  the  stage  "  clickerty  clack;  click- 
erty  clack;  clickerty  clack,"  when  suddenly  the 
old  lady  stops  talking,  pricks  up  her  ears,  listens 
a  minute,  then  said, 

"  By  garry,  thim  byes  is  doin'  a  long  dance  this 

night." 

*  *     * 

There  was  a  German  artist  playing  on  the  bill 
with  us  in  Buffalo.  He  was  a  very  polite  chap, 
but  his  English  was  very  Berlin.  One  night,  after 
holding  a  rehearsal  with  a  German  acrobat,  who 
was  not  much  better  off  than  he  was  as  to  the 
English  language,  he  came  over  to  my  wife,  and 
very  slowly  and  laboriously  he  said, 

"  Goot  evening,  Madam  Mees  Dayne;  eet  iss 
colder  than  h ,  don't  it?  " 

Charlie  Case  was  telling  me  how  bad  his  teeth 
were : 

/  "  Why,  Will,"  he  said,  "  I  have  indigestion 
something  awful.  I  can't  chew  a  piece  of  meat 
to  save  my  life.     I  just  bite  it  hard  enough  to 

make  sure  it  is  dead,  and  swallow  it." 

*  *     * 

Chick  Sale  comes  from  some  one-night  stand 
up  in  Illinois,  I  have  forgotten  the  name  of  it; 

54 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

but  there  are  two  rival  hose  companies  in  the 
town.  As  fires  are  scarce,  every  once  in  a  while 
they  have  a  "  contest."  The  two  companies  line 
up  side  by  side,  somebody  counts  three  and  away 
they  go  across  the  square  to  the  watering  trough. 
Upon  arriving  there  they  unreel  their  hose,  stick 
one  end  into  the  watering  trough,  man  the  pumps, 
and  the  first  one  to  get  a  stream  on  to  the  flag  pole 
wins. 

Last  summer  there  came  a  real  fire.  As  the 
fire  was  nearest  to  their  engine  house  the  Alerts 
got  there,  and  got  a  stream  on  to  the  fire  before 
the  Reliables  arrived.  As  they  came  panting  and 
puffing  up  the  hill  the  captain  of  the  Reliables  saw 
this,  stopped,  waved  his  hand  back  at  his  company 
and  said, 

"  They  have  beat  us,  boys;  you  can  go  back." 

*  *      * 

There  is  one  good  thing  about  Des  Moines, 
according  to  the  advertisements  they  are  running 
in  the  magazines.     There   are   twenty  railroads 

running  out  of  it. 

*  *      * 

On  125th  Street  in  New  York  City  there  is  a 
piano  dealer  by  the  name  of  Wise.  On  every 
window  of  his  store  he  has  painted  — 

5S 


/ 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  What  is  home  without  a  piano?     Wise." 

And  he  is  correct. 

*  *     * 

One  week  in  Omaha,  Neb.,  the  advertising  in 
front  of  the  Gaiety  Theater  read  — 
"  The  Midnight  Maidens. 
15  to  75  cts." 

A  Montreal  furrier  advertises  — 
"  Fur  cap,  $1.00. 
Good  Fur  Cap,  $1.25.  .    / 

Real  Fur  Cap,  $1.50."         V 

*  *     * 


56 


11  HEART  INTEREST  " 

WHEN  you  go  into  a  Continuous 
Vaudeville  show  you  expect  to  see  all 
sorts  of  acrobatic  marvels,  trained 
animals,  and  funny  people.  You  ex- 
pect to  hear  sweet  singers,  talented  musicians,  and 
funny  comedians.  But  once  in  awhile  you  see  and 
hear  some  little  gem  of  sincere,  heart  interest. 

And  so,  just  in  order  to  give  that  little  touch 
of  the  "  heart  interest,"  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
of  a  couple  of  little  incidents  that  came  into  our 
lives  at  different  times. 

One  night  several  years  ago  we  were  playing 
in  a  little  town  way  up  in  the  mountains  of  Penn- 
sylvania. The  night  telegraph  operator  at  the 
railroad  station  was  an  old  schoolmate  of  mine. 
And  so  after  the  show  was  over  I  went  over  to  the 
station  to  have  a  visit  with  him.  It  was  a  still 
cold  night  in  the  middle  of  winter  and  we  sat 
around  the  little  stove  in  his  office,  talking  over 
our  boyhood  days  back  in  New  Hampshire. 

57 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Along  about  midnight  the  outer  door  opened 
and  a  poor,  ragged,  hungry-looking  young  chap 
of  twenty-two  or  three  stepped  in  and  walked  to 
the  stove.  After  he  had  got  his  hands  thawed 
out  a  little  he  came  over  to  the  window  of  the 
telegraph  office  and  handed  the  operator  a  piece 
of  paper.  It  was  just  a  piece  of  common  wrap- 
ping paper  with  a  message  written  on  it  in  lead 
pencil. 

"  How  much  will  it  cost  me  to  send  that  mes- 
sage? "  he  asked. 

The  operator  counted  the  words. 

"Ten  words;  twenty-five  cents." 

The  young  fellow  withdrew  his  closed  hand 
from  his  pocket  and  emptied  out  exactly  twenty- 
five  cents  in  pennies  and  nickels,  sighed  and  went 
out. 

The  operator  sat  down  and  sent  the  message. 
Then  he  sat  looking  at  the  paper  for  quite  a  few 
seconds;  then  he  turned  to  me  and  said, 

"  Well,  I  have  been  jerking  lightning  quite  a 
while  now,  but  there  is  the  biggest  ten  words  I 
ever  sent." 

He  handed  me  the  message;  it  read  — 

"  Kiss  Mother  good-by;  I  am  too  poor  to 
come." 

58 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

The  second  is  just  a  letter  which  Miss  Dayne 
received  in  Pittsburg,  from  a  poor  old  mother 
who  thought  she  recognized  in  Miss  Dayne  her 
erring  daughter. 

McKeesport,  Pa.,  Mar.  5. 
Dear  Daughter  Blanch. 

i  recognized  your  picture  in  one  of  the  Pitts- 
burg papers.  Blanchie  will  you  write  me  a  few 
lines  and  releived  my  heart  and  mind,  if  it  is 
concealment  you  dont  want  any  one  to  know  from 
me  if  you  will  only  write  me  a  few  lines  i  am  your 
mother  how  i  have  longed  to  see  you  my  health 
is  failing  me  the  children  often  ask  about  you  and 
wonder  dont  fail  me  dear  child  you  are  just  the 
same  to  me  as  the  rest  love  to  you  Blanchie  from 
your  heart  broken  mother 


59 


Mag  Haggerty's  Horse. 

TOMMIE  RYAN'S  HORSE 

TOMMIE  RYAN  and  his  wife  (Mary 
Richfield)  live  in  a  very  charming  house 
at  Sayville,  Long  Island.  The  Ryan 
horse  lived  in  the  barn.  Although,  if 
Mrs.  Tommie  had  had  her  way,  he  would  have 
lived  in  the  parlor.  For  "  Abner  "  was  the  pride 
of  her  heart. 

Abner  had  been  in  the  family  so  long  he  had 
become  a  habit.  He  had  grown  so  old  that  Tom- 
mie had  to  go  out  at  night  and  fold  him  up  and 
put  him  to  bed;  then  in  the  morning  he  would 
have  to  go  out  and  pry  him  up  on  to  his  feet 
again. 

When  Mrs.  Ryan  wanted  to  go  for  a  drive, 
Tommie  had  to  go  along  on  his  bicycle,  to  push 
the  horse  up  the  hills  and  hold  it  back  going  down 
the  hills. 

60 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Abner' s  teeth  had  grown  so  long  that  he  looked 
like  a  wild  boar.  Tommie  vows  that  he  chewed 
all  his  hay  for  him  for  two  years. 

Finally  Tommie  got  tired  of  acting  as  wet  nurse 
to  Abner  and  wanted  to  dispose  of  him  some  way; 
but  Mrs.  Ryan  absolutely  refused;  she  said  Tom- 
mie had  given  her  that  horse  "  to  keep  "  and  she 
was  going  to  keep  him. 

But  finally,  along  towards  fall,  when  it  was 
time  for  them  to  start  out  on  their  winter's  tour, 
Tommie  evolved  a  deep,  dark  scheme.  So  he 
framed  it  up  with  the  local  livery  stable  man,  that, 
as  soon  as  they  were  gone,  he  was  to  dispose  of 
Abner;  sell  him,  if  he  could;  if  not,  then  give  him 
away  to  some  one  who  would  treat  him  kindly 
and  see  that  his  last  days  were  spent  in  peace  and 
plenty.  And,  in  order  to  cover  up  his  duplicity, 
he  left  three  letters  with  the  livery  stable  man  to 
be  copied  and  mailed  to  him  on  stated  dates. 

Everything  went  off  as  planned;  Abner  was  dis- 
posed of,  and  upon  the  first  stated  date  the  Ryans 
received  the  first  letter;  it  stated  that  the  distemper 
was  rather  prevalent  among  the  best  circles  of 
Long  Island  Horse  Society,  but  that  as  yet  Abner 
was  free  from  it. 

Two  weeks  later  a  letter  came  to  St.  Louis  stat- 
61 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

ing  that  Abner  was   afflicted,  but  very  slightly. 

At  Milwaukee  a  week  later  the  third  letter 
came,  describing  in  detail  the  last  sad  rites  attend- 
ing the  death  and  burial  of  Abner. 

As  the  weeks  passed  by  Mrs.  Ryan  grew  re- 
signed and  Tommie  grew  happy.  And  then  came 
their  engagement  at  Buffalo.  Upon  arrival  at  the 
theater,  Tommie  found  eleven  letters;  one  was 
from  the  livery  stable  man  at  home;  this  one  he 
slipped  into  his  overcoat  pocket  for  a  private  read- 
ing later  on.  While  he  was  reading  the  other 
ten,  his  turn  came  to  rehearse  his  music;  he  slipped 
the  ten  letters  into  the  same  pocket  with  the  livery 
stable  man's  letter,  and  forgot  all  about  the  whole 
lot. 

Arriving  at  the  hotel,  Mrs.  Ryan  asked  him 
for  the  mail  and  he  handed  the  whole  lot  over  to 
her.  The  first  one  that  she  opened  was  the  livery 
stable  man's.  It  stated  that  the  family  he  had 
given  Abner  to,  according  to  Tom's  directions, 
had  just  been  arrested  for  beating  and  starving 
Abner. 

I  can't  tell  the  rest;  it  is  too  sad;  but  to  this 
day,  every  time  Mrs.  Ryan  thinks  of  Abner,  she 
looks  at  Tommie,  and  he  goes  out  and  sits  in  the 
Park. 

62 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Thou  Shalt  Not  Steal,"  said  the  sign  in  the 
car. 

The  conductor  looked  at  it  and  laughed  "  ha 
ha." 

And  he  pinched  four  dollars,  and  whistled  the 

air, 

14  None  but  the  brave  deserve  the  fare." 
*     *     * 

After  six  weeks'  travel  the  Harry  Lauder  Com-  y 
pany  had  reached  San  Francisco;  every  night  o£\# 
that  six  weeks  Hugo  Morris  had  taken  Lauder  out 
to  some  restaurant  to  exhibit  and  feed  him.  On 
this  first  ,night  in  San  Francisco,  the  show  had  been 
an  uncommonly  large  success,  and  "  Spendthrift 
Harry "  was  feeling  generous.  So  he  said  to 
Hugo, 

"  Wull,  Hugo,  I  bane  thinkin';  every  nicht  sen 
we  left  New  York  you  ha'  taken  me  oot  as  your 
guest;  you  ha'  entertained  me  grand;  I  ha'  never 
seen  anything  like  it  in  ma  own  country.  An'  I 
ha  come  to  the  conclusion  tha'  it  is  not  richt  for 
me  to  let  yo'  do  a'  the  treatin'.  An'  so  to-nicht 
I  wi'  toss  yo'  a  penny  to  see  who  pays  for  the  sup- 
per. 

He  did  so,  and  Hugo  got  stuck. 

63 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Wouldn't  Alan  Dale  feel  at  home  in  a  "  Pan  "- 
tages  theater? 

*     *     * 


\/  in 


"  Shun  Licker." 

One  morning  in  Chicago  I  received  a  pressing 
invitation  to  come  over  to  the  police  station  and 
bail  out  "  A  Fallen  Star."  Upon  arriving  there 
I  found  the  aforesaid  Star  sitting  on  the  edge  of 
his  bunk  holding  his  head  in  his  hands  and  wish- 
ing it  had  never  happened. 

Like  all  Good  Samaritans  I  started  in  deliver- 
ing a  Frances  Murphy  to  him;  I  told  him  how  he 
was  ruining  his  health,  fortune  and  reputation;  I 
was  really  making  quite  a  hit  —  with  myself. 
Suddenly  a  rat  scampered  along  the  corridor  by 

64 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

the  door.  The  Fallen  Star  saw  it,  started, 
glanced  sharply  at  me,  then  regained  his  com- 
posure. I  was  going  ahead  with  my  temperance 
lecture,  when  he  glanced  up  at  me  a  second  time 
and  said  sharply, 

"  I  know  what  you  think;  you  think  I  think  I 

saw  a  rat  —  but  I  didn't." 

*  *      * 

One  summer  we  took  our  Property  Man  up  on 
the  farm  in  New  Hampshire  with  us;  one  day  my 
wife  was  trying  to  describe  a  man  that  she  wanted^ 
him  to  find  over  to  the  village : 

"He  is  a  rather  stout  man,"  she  said;  "has 
reddish  hair,  wears  blue  glasses  and  has  locomotor 
ataxia." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  interrupted  the  Property  Man,  "  I 
seen  it;  he  keeps  it  up  in  George  Blodgett's  barn; 

I  see  it  every  night  when  I  go  after  the  cow." 

*  *      * 

The  manager  of  a  little  theater  in  Des  Moines 
closed  an  act  on  a  Thursday;  I  asked  him  what 
the  matter  was  with  the  actor: 

'  Too  officious,  front  and  back." 

*  *      * 

/B.  F.  Keith  had  two  theaters  in  Philadelphia; 
one  on  Eighth  Street  and  one  on  Chestnut  Street. 

65 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

One  week  while  we  were  appearing  at  the  Chest- 
nut Street  house  one  of  the  papers  had  a  picture 
of  me.  Not  having  space  enough  for  the  whole 
name  of  the  theater,  they  cut  it  down  so  that  the 
announcement  read  — 

"  WILL  M.  CRESSY.     KEITH'S  CHEST- 
NUT." 
*     *     * 


The  Widow's  Mite. 

\J  The  train  had  stopped  at  Reno  for  a  few  min- 
utes; it  was  just  at  dusk  and  as  the  night  was 
warm  we  got  out  and  were  walking  up  and  down 
the  platform.     There  was  a  billboard  at  the  end 

66 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

of  the  station  and  the  bill  poster  was  pasting  up 
some  paper  advertising  the  coming  of  "  The 
Widow's  Mite  "  Company.  An  old  chap  came 
along,  stopped  and  looked  at  it,  but,  owing  to  the 
poor  light  could  not  quite  make  out  what  it  was; 
so  he  said  to  the  bill  poster, 

"  What  show  is  it,  Bill?" 

"  The  Widow's  Mite." 

The  old  fellow  pondered  on  it  for  a  moment, 

then  as  he  turned  away  he  said,  half  to  himself, 

"  Might?     They  do." 

*     *     * 

v  /One  night  in  San  Francisco,  Bonnie  Thornton 
woke  up,  heard  a  suspicious  noise  in  the  next 
room,  and  nudged  Jim,  her  husband. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  inquired  Jim. 

"  There  is  a  burglar  in  the  other  room,"  said 
Bonnie. 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  I  can  hear  him." 

There   was   a   pause,    then   she   whispered   ex- 
citedly, 

"  Jim,  he  is  under  the  bed." 

"  No,  he  isn't,"  said  Jim. 

"  How  do  you  know  he  isn't?  " 

"  Because  I  am  under  there." 
67 


/,. 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


Jack  Wilson  went  into  an  auto  supply  store  in 
New  York  and  wanted  to  buy  a  pedometer  for  his 
car. 

"A  speedometer  you  mean,  don't  you?"  said 
the  clerk,  smiling. 

"  No;  I  want  a  pedometer,"  said  Jack. 

11  But,"  persisted  the  clerk,  "  a  pedometer  is  for 
registering  how  far  you  have  walked.  You  don't 
want  that  on  your  car." 

"  Humph,"  said  Jack,  "  you  don't  know  my 
car. 

/ 

\J  A  Critic  had  criticized  me  rather  severely,  and 

then,  not  satisfied  with  that,  had  come  around  to 
see  me  and  tell  wherein  I  was  wrong. 

"  See  here,"  I  said,  "  how  is  it  that  you,  a  news- 
paper man  here  in  a  small  town;  a  man  that  never 
wrote  a  play;  never  produced  a  play;  and  never 
played  a  part  in  your  life;  how  is  it  that  you  feel 
competent  to  give  lessons  to  me,  who  have  made 
a  life's  study  of  this  line  of  work?  " 

"  Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "  it  is  true  that  I  never 
wrote,  produced  or  took  part  in  a  play.  Neither 
have  I  ever  laid  an  egg.  But  I  consider  myself 
a  better  judge  of  an  omelette  than  any  hen  that 
ever  lived." 

68 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

There  was  a  kind  of  a  R.S.V.P.  in  his  tone 

but  I  did  not  have  any  answer  to  make  right  at 

the  time. 

*     *     * 


Far  from  Home  and   Kindred. 


It  was  at  a  little  station  way  out  on  the  plains 
of  Nebraska.  There  were  exactly  sixteen  houses 
in  sight.     Two  men  met  just  outside  our  window. 

"  Why,  hello,  Henry,"  said  one;  "  what  are  you 

doin'  down  town?  " 

*      *      * 

69 


VAUDEVILLE  VS.  THE  LEGITIMATE 

A  FEW  years  ago  a  handsome,  immac- 
ulate young  man  came  over  to  me  as 
I  was  sitting  in  the  office  of  the 
Adams  House  in  Boston  and  said, 
"  Mr.  Cressy,  my  name  is  so-and-so;  I  am  an 
actor;  a  good  actor  too,  and  I  have  always  been 
very  proud  of  my  profession.  My  mother  is  one 
of  the  most  popular  actresses  in  America  to-day. 
But  last  summer  I  had  an  experience  that  set  me 
to  thinking  a  little.  As  you  were  mixed  up  in  it 
I  am  going  to  tell  it  to  you. 

"  Last  season  I  was  out  with  a  company  that 
made  one  of  those  '  artistic  successes,'  but  which 
did  not  seem  to  interest  the  public  very  much. 
As  a  result,  when  the  merry  springtime  came 
around,  I  had  a  trunk  full  of  good  clothes,  good 
press  notices  and  I.O.U.'s  from  the  manager,  but 
not  a  dollar  in  money. 

"  But  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  receive  an  in- 
vitation from  a  luckier  actor  friend  to  spend  a 
month  at  his  summer  home  on  the  shores  of  Lake 

70 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Sunapee,  N.  H.  Did  I  went?  I  did  went! 
Quick. 

"  He  had  a  beautiful  home.  And  I  was  cer- 
tainly some  class;  I  had  linens,  flannels,  yachting 
clothes,  tennis  clothes,  evening  clothes;  in  fact  I 
had  everything  but  money. 

"  One  night  we  were  sitting  down  on  his  little 
wharf  enjoying  our — >  no,  his  —  cigars,  and  a 
very  pretty  little  launch  passed  by. 

"'Whose  launch  is  that?'  I  asked. 

"  '  Oh,  it  belongs  to  some  Vaudeville  player 
by  the  name  of  Matthews,  I  believe.  They  live 
over  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  I  don't  know 
them.' 

"  Pretty  soon  another  little  launch  came  into 
the  bay,  cruised  around  the  shore,  and  went. 

"  'Whose  boat  is  that?'  I  inquired. 

"  '  That  belongs  to  a  Vaudeville  fellow  by  the 
name  of  Merritt.     I  don't  know  him.' 

"  A  little  while  after  a  big  cabin  launch  came 
into  the  bay  and  cruised  slowly  around.  Out  on 
the  deck  was  a  party  of  young  folks:  two  of  the 
girls  were  playing  mandolins  and  they  were  all 
singing. 

"  '  By  Jove!  '  I  exclaimed.  '  That's  a  beauty! 
Whose  is  it?  ' 

7i 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  '  Oh,  that  is  Will  Cressy's  boat,'  replied  my 
friend  impatiently.  '  He  is  another  of  those 
Vaudeville  people.  There  are  a  number  of  them 
over  across  the  lake  there,  but  we  don't  know 
them  at  all.' 

"  I  sat  for  a  while  —  thinking.  Here  I  was, 
a  recognized  Broadway  player  of  legitimate 
roles,  a  man  who  could  play  any  juvenile  Shakes- 
pearian role  without  a  rehearsal,  a  member  of 
The  Lambs  and  The  Players  Clubs.  And  here 
I  was  sitting  out  on  the  end  of  a  wharf  because 
I  didn't  have  money  enough  to  hire  even  a  bum 
rowboat.  And  the  three  first  launches  that  had 
passed  by  were  all  owned  by  Vaudeville  players 
—  whom  my  legitimate  friend  '  did  not  know  at 
all.'  I  thought  it  all  out  and  then  I  turned  to 
my  friend  and  said, 

"  '  All  right,  Tom,  but  you  want  to  make  all 
you  can  out  of  this  visit  of  mine.  For  the  next 
time  I  come  up  here  you  won't  be  speaking  to 
me.' 

"  '  Why  won't  I  ?  '  he  asked  in  surprise. 

"  '  Because  the  next  time  I  come  up  here  I  am 
going  to  be  "  one  of  those  Vaudeville  players." 
I  am  going  to  have  some  money  in  my  pocket; 
and  I  am  going  to  have  a  boat;  and  I  am  going 

72 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

to  sail  by  here  every  evening  and  make  faces  at 

you  "  Legits."  '  " 

*      *     * 

Copy  of  a  letter  received  from  the  proprietor 
of  a  hotel  in  Youngstown,  Ohio :  ^ 

"  To  the  Manager  of  the Company,    r 

"  I  can  highly  recommend  you  to  my  hotel  we 
get  all  the  best  troups  our  rates  are  as  follows. 

One  man  or  one  woman  in  one  bed,  $1.25. 

Two  men,  or  two  women,  or  one  man  and  one 
woman  in  one  bed,  $1.00. 

And  the  hens  lay  every  day. 

" ,  Proprietor." 

Hanging  in  each  room  of  the  Freeman  House 
at  Paterson,  N.  J.,  there  used  to  hang  a  neat  little 
frame   of   "  House   Rules."     Among  these  rules^^- 
were  the  following:  ^^ 

'  Towel  Service  will  be  restricted  to  one  clean 
towel  for  each  guest  daily.  The  face  towel  of  the 
previous  day  may  (and  should)  be  retained  for 
hand  use  the  following  day." 

"  Gentlemen  will  not  be  allowed  to  visit  ladies 
in  their  sleeping  rooms,  nor  ladies  to  visit  gentle- 
men in  their  rooms  except  under  extenuating  cir- 
cumstances." 

73 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


% 


MATTHEW  J 

H  AHPtlS 

HAL 

6P<?M<SMITH 

ftMER 

Bloo^etT 


^pife 


"Why?" 

A  little  boy  playing  around  the  stage  door  of 
the  Orpheum  Theater  in  Kansas  City  spoke  to  me 
as  I  came  out  one  afternoon. 

11  Hello,  Mister." 

"  Hello,  young  feller." 

"  Do  you  work  in  there?  " 

11  Yes." 

"  Are  you  an  actor?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Why?" 

And  I  couldn't  tell  him  of  a  single  reason. 

74 


A  SOCIAL  SESSION 

Being  "  An  Outsider's  "  Views  of  an  Elks'  Social 
Respectfully  dedicated  to  Archie  Boyd,  a 
Real  Elk. 

Have  you  ever,  when  benighted 
In  a  strange  town,  been  invited 

To  a  social  of  the  B.  P.  O.  of  E.? 
'Twas  too  early  to  be  sleeping 
And  the  "  blues  "  were  o'er  you  creeping 

And  you  wished  that  at  home  you  could  be. 

But  when  once  you  got  inside, 
Got  to  drifting  with  the  tide 

Of  Goodfellowship  that  seemed  to  fill  the 
room; 
Was  there  not  a  better  feeling 
That  came  softly  o'er  you  stealing 

That  seemed  to  send  the  sunlight  through 
the  gloom? 
75 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

There  is  magic  in  those  letters; 
Binding  men  in  Friendship's  fetters, 

Wondrous  letters;  B.  P.  O.  of  E. 
There's  "  Benevolence,"  "  Protection," 
Mark  you  well  the  close  connection 

As  they  beam  down  from  above  on  you 
and  me. 

And  you  listen  to  the  stories 
That  they  tell  about  the  glories 

Of  this  Brotherhood  you  meet  on  every 
hand. 
Of  a  hand  outstretched  in  pity 
To  some  Elk  in  foreign  city, 

A  Stranger,  and  in  a  stranger  land. 

And  now  the  murmur  is  abating; 
And  you  notice  men  are  awaiting 

For  the  hour  of  Eleven's  drawing  near. 
'Tis  the  sweetest  hour  of  any; 
Each  remembered  by  the  many, 

As  they  drink  to  "  Absent  Brothers,"  held 
so  dear. 

And  now  I  want  to  ask  a  question, 
Or  rather  make  a  slight  suggestion 
76 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

To  you  "  Strangers  "  that  these  invitations 
reach. 
When  you're  asked  to  entertain  them 
Do  not  bashfully  detain  them 

With  that  chestnut  that  you  cannot  make 
a  speech. 

You  may  not  be  a  dancer; 

Or  your  voice  may  have  a  cancer, 

And  as  a  singer  you  may  be  an  awful  frost. 
But  if  you  can't  do  recitations 
Or  other  fancy  recreations, 

Don't  consider   that   you   are   completely 
lost. 

For  somewhere  in  your  travels 
You've  heard  a  story  that  unravels 

All  the  kinks  you  had  tied  up  in  your  heart. 
And  can't  you,  from  out  the  many, 
Tell  one,  as  well  as  any? 

It  will  show  them  that  you  want  to  do  your 
part. 

So  do  get  up  and  make  a  try; 
You  can't  any  more  than  die; 

And    if    it's   rotten,    your   intentions   will 
atone. 

77 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

And  you'll  show  appreciation 
For  the  greatest  aggregation 

Of  "  Good  Fellows  "  that  the  world  has 
ever  known. 


"  Time  All  Open.     Indefinite." 

nJ  Several  years  ago  the  Quigley  Brothers,  Bob 
and  George,  were  living  at  a  boarding  house  on 
Fourteenth  Street,  New  York.  One  afternoon 
George  was  standing  in  front  of  the  looking  glass, 
shaving,  and  at  the  same  time  practicing  a  new 
dance  step.  Bob  was  seated  on  the  floor,  writ- 
ing letters,  on  his  trunk,  to  different  managers  for 
"  time."     He  stopped,  looked  up  and  said, 

78 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  How  do  you  spell  eighty,  George?  " 

"  Who  are  you  writing  to?  "  asked  George. 

"Huber." 

"  F-o-r-t-y." 

*     *     * 

All  Artists,  while  playing  "  the  Provinces  "  in 
England,  stop  at  "  lodgings,"  that  is,  private 
houses.  The  landlady  always  keeps  a  book,  in 
which  she  has  the  visiting  Artists  write  their  auto- 
graphs, and  a  line  telling  how  much  they  have 
enjoyed  her  "  lodgings." 

E.  J.  Connelly  got  into  one  house  where  he  did 
not  feel  like  writing  just  what  he  thought  about 
it;  but  the  landlady  was  so  insistent  that  finally  he 
took  the  book  and  wrote  — 

"  Quoth  the  Raven;  E.  J.  Connelly." 

One  night  at  the  Vaudeville  Comedy  Club  the 
conversation  drifted  around  to  Stage  Tramps. 
It  happened  that  there  were  several  of  this  style 
of  the  genus  homo  present  and  they  began  a  good- 
natured  dispute  as  to  which  had  been  playing 
tramp  parts  the  longest. 

Nat  Wills  went  back  as  far  as  1885.  Charlie 
Evans  said  that  "  Old  Hoss  "  Hoey  could  beat 
that,  as  he  was  at  it  in  1881.     John  World  said 

79 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

they  were  mere  novices;  as  he  was  playing  a 
tramp  part  in  1874. 

Just  then  Walter  Jones  wandered  in,  and  the 
matter  was  referred  to  him. 

"  Boys,"  he  said,  stifling  a  yawn,  "  you  are  all 
Pikers;  Mere  Johnnie  Newcomers.  Why,  I 
played  a  tramp  part  in  '  1492.'  " 


80 


BIGALOW  AND  THE  BIG  SIX 

CHARLES  BIGALOW,  the  Hairless 
Comedian,  has  passed  away;  and  when 
you  stop  to  consider  that  he  put  in  a 
whole  season  in  a  company  with  Pete 
Daily,  Willie  Collier,  Lew  Field,  Joe  Webber, 
John  T.  Kelley  and  Edgar  Smith,  you  can't  won- 
der that  he  passed  away.  I  never  could  see  how 
anybody  lived  through  that  season.  I  wouldn't 
put  in  a  season  with  that  sextette  for  all  the  money 
Lee  Harrison  has  got.  What  one  of  them 
wouldn't  think  of  another  would;  and  generally 
they  all  thought  of  it  at  once. 

One  of  the  scenes  that  season  took  place  on  the 
deck  of  a  yacht.  Daily  and  Collier  had  a  scene 
where  they  leaned  over  the  rail  of  the  boat,  this 
rail  running  across  the  stage  right  down  next 
to  the  footlights,  and  while  pretending  to  be  look- 
ing down  into  the  sea,  made  fun  of  the  leader, 
the  members  of  the  orchestra  and  the  audience. 
Daily  would  point  down  to  a  couple  of  chaps 
and  say  to  Collier, 

81 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Oh,  look!  there  are  a  couple  of  sharks." 

"  How  do  you  know  they  are  sharks?  "  Collier 
would  ask. 

"  I  was  playing  poker  with  them  last  night," 
Daily  would  reply. 

Then  Collier  would  get  his  eye  on  a  party  of 
girls. 

"  And  look  at  the  school  of  minnies !  "  he  would 
say. 

"  Those  are  not  minnies,"  Daily  would  say. 

"What  are  they?" 

"  Rebeccas." 

Now  as  this  was  a  scene  that  didn't  start  any- 
where nor  go  anywhere,  there  had  to  be  some 
sort  of  an  interruption  occur  to  get  them  off  the 
stage.  So  it  was  arranged  that  Bigalow  should 
come  rushing  on  calling  for  help;  Collier  and 
Daily  ask  what  is  the  matter.  Bigalow  says  his 
wife  has  fallen  overboard  and  the  three  rush  off 
to  save  her. 

This  version  was  played  for  several  weeks; 
then  Daily  and  Collier  began  to  fear  that  Biga- 
low was  beginning  to  become  mechanical  in  his 
work  so  they  decided  to  make  a  change  in  the 
scene;  but  they  did  not  tell  him  so. 

That  night  the  scene  went  on  as  usual,  up  to  the 
82 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

time  of  Bigalow's  entrance.  He  came  rushing, 
wild  eyed  and  excited  shouting  — 

"Help!     Help!" 

But  instead  of  turning  and  asking  what  the 
matter  was,  Collier  and  Daily  kept  right  on  with 
their  kidding  the  audience.  Again,  and  louder, 
Bigalow  yelled  — 

"Help!    Help!" 

Collier  discovered  a  red-headed  girl  down  in 
front  and  called  Daily's  attention  to  the  "  Red 
Snapper  "  over  on  the  right. 

uHelp\     Help!     Help-Help!!" 

Daily  called  Collier's  attention  to  the  marcel 
waves  beating  on  a  fellow's  shoulder  over  in  the 
left-hand  box. 

Bigalow  was  getting  madder  every  minute. 
"  Oh,  say,  for  the  love  of  Lee  Shubert,  come  and 
help  a  feller,  will  you?  " 

Collier  pointed  to  a  man  in  the  front  row  and 
said,  "Look  at  the  gold  fish  down  there!  See 
his  gold  teeth?  " 

By  this  time  Bigalow  was  so  mad  he  couldn't 
speak  at  all;  so  he  just  stood  and  glared  at  the 
other  two.  Having  accomplished  their  desires, 
Daily  now  took  Collier  by  the  arm  and  they 
started  off  stage.     Just  as  they  were  about  to  exit, 

83 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Collier  stopped,  held  up  his  hand,  listened  a  mo- 
ment, then  said, 

"  I  thought  I  heard  something  1  " 

They  both  put  their  hands  to  their  ears  and 
listened.  Then  Collier  turned  and  saw  Bigalow, 
looked  at  him  a  moment  and  said, 

"  Er  —  I  beg  pardon!     Did  you  speak?  " 

Bigalow  just  looked  at  him  angrily. 

"Something  about  'help,'  was  it  not?"  con- 
tinued Collier. 

Still  no  reply. 

"  Help?  Help?  "  said  Daily,  briskly;  "  what 
help  do  you  want?  " 

"  Oh,  my  wife  fell  overboard  —  an  hour  ago," 
said  Bigalow  in  tones  of  disgust. 

"  Is  it  possible?  "  said  Daily;  and,  taking  Col- 
lier's arm  they  walked  off  unconcernedly,  leaving 
Bigalow  there  alone. 

For  a  full  minute  he  stood  there,  looking  off 
after  them,  too  angry  and  disgusted  to  speak. 
And  then,  at  the  top  of  his  voice  he  yelled  after 
them  — 

"  Well,   say,  you  know   I  don't  give  a   damn 

either." 

And  walked  off. 

*     *     * 

84 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Upon  another  occasion  several  of  the  Webber 
&  Fields  Stars  were  engaged  to  appear  at  a  func- 
tion given  by  some  millionaire  up  on  Fifth 
Avenue.  They  were  to  meet  at  the  theater, 
dress  there,  and  go  up  to  the  house  in  taxicabs. 
As  usual,  Bigalow  was  late.  But  as  this  always 
happened  nobody  bothered  about  it.  They  sim- 
ply got  dressed  and  went  on  their  way,  leaving 
him  to  come  as  best  he  could. 

But,  in  order  that  he  should  not  feel  neg- 
lected, they  fixed  things  up  for  him.  In  rummag- 
ing through  his  trunk  Daily  had  come  across  a 
can  of  burnt  cork,  that  he  had  used  in  a  minstrel 
show  at  St.  James,  L.  I.,  the  previous  summer. 
So  while  Collier  wrote  a  note  for  Bigalow,  telling 
him  that  at  the  last  minute  it  had  been  decided 
that  everybody  should  "  black  up,"  Daily  daubed 
some  of  the  burnt  cork  around  the  wash  bowl 
and  on  to  his  and  Collier's  towels.  This  done 
they  all  went  up  to  the  house  where  they  were  to 
appear. 

Can  you  see  the  next  picture?  Daily,  Collier, 
Kelly,  and  the  others  all  in  immaculate  evening 
dress,  sitting  in  the  host's  drawing  room,  chat- 
ting with  the  host  and  a  few  friends,  when  the 


85 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

door   burst   open   and   Bigalow   dashed   in  —  as 
black  as  burnt  cork  would  make  him  1 

Poor  Charlie.  May  he  rest  in  peace.  And 
that  is  more  than  he  would  ever  have  done  in  that 
company. 

There  was  an  English  musical  act  playing  over 
here  last  summer.  The  wife  carried  the  money. 
She  had  to;  if  she  hadn't  there  wouldn't  have 
been  any  to  carry.  She  had  a  time  lock  on  the 
pocketbook  and  the  time  did  not  expire  until  they 
got  back  to  England.  She  had  been  brought  up 
under  a  free  trade  government  and  she  did  not 
like  our  protective  tariff  prices. 

Hubby  had  one  hat;  a  straw  one.  As  Hubby 
had  red  hair  and  the  hat  was  a  dirty  white,  he 
looked  like  a  fried  egg  in  it.  For  weeks  he  had 
been  trying  to  get  a  requisition  on  the  treasury 
for  a  new  one.  But  wife  had  vetoed  the  appro- 
priation every  time. 

Finally  Hubby  had  a  scheme.  He  went  to 
Joe  Apdale,  the  animal  trainer,  for  assistance. 

"  Now,  Joe,"  he  said,  "  Hi'll  tell  you  wot  we'll 
do;  Hi  will  go  down  hand  set  on  the  hedge  of 
the  dock  there,  hover  the  ocean.  Hand  you  come 
along  hand  say,  '  'Ullo,  old  chap !  '  and  slap  me 

86 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

on  the  back.  Hi'll  jump,  and  the  bloomin'  'at 
will  fall  hin  the  water." 

"  All  right,"  said  Joe;  "  set  your  stage." 

Hubby  went  down  to  the  edge  of  the  wharf, 
leaning  over  and  looking  at  the  water  below. 

Joe  sauntered  down  that  way,  saw  him,  started, 
went  over  to  him,  said,  "  Hullo,  old  chap!  "  and 
slapped  him  on  the  back. 

Hubby  started  —  and  lost  his  glasses  into  the 
ocean,  while  the  hat  remained  firmly  on  his  head. 

The  Four  Blank  Sisters  were  playing  the  Co- 
lumbia at  Cincinnati;  Mama  Blank  traveled  with 
the  act;  Mama  was  about  five  feet  long  and  four 
wide;  and  she  was  built  too  far  front;  she  was  at 
least  fifteen  inches  out  over  the  building  line. 

On  this  particular  night  the  German  Consul 
was  to  be  in  front  to  see  the  girls.  Coram,  the 
English  Ventriloquist,  was  doing  his  act  in  "  One." 
The  girls  came  next.  Mama  spied  a  peek  hole 
in  the  curtain;  this  peek  hole  was  about  the  center 
of  the  stage.  Mama  said,  "So;  I  should  see  if 
the  Consul  iss  dere  already  yet." 

So  she  went  to  the  peek  hole;  it  was  just  about 
two  inches  too  high;  so,  in  order  to  make  it, 
Mama  had  to  stand  on  tiptoe;  this  change  in  her 

87 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  point  of  support "  threw  her  center  of  gravity 
still  further  front,  so  that  by  the  time  she  got 
her  eyes  up  to  within  a  foot  of  the  peek  hole,  her 
front  piazza  was  right  up  against  the  curtain; 
but  she  didn't  know  it;  she  kept  stepping  forward 
to  get  nearer  to  the  peek  hole,  and  her  stomach 
kept  shoving  it  further  and  further  away. 

Meanwhile  she  was  crowding  poor  Coram,  out 
in  front,  further  and  further  into  the  footlights. 
Finally,  in  desperation,  he  brought  his  elbow  back 
against  the  curtain  with  a  whack.  It  struck  poor 
Mama  where  she  was  the  most  prominent,  and 
knocked  every  bit  of  breath  out  of  her.  With 
a  groan  she  collapsed,  and  it  took  the  four  daugh- 
ters all  the  rest  of  the  evening  to  get  her  pumped 

up  again. 

*     *     * 

Hanging  on  the  walls  of  the  old  S.  &  C.  House 
in  Seattle  were  the  following  rules: 


If  you  don't  like  the  Laundry,  tell  the  Prop- 
erty Man,  and  he  will  put  a  washtub  and  clothes 
line  in  your  room. 


If  you  don't  like  the  way  the  stage  is  run,  join 
the  Union  and  run  it  yourself. 

88 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

If  you  don't  like  the  Manager,  tell  him,  and  he 
will  resign. 


If  your  act  don't  go  well  here  it  is  because  you 
are  over  their  heads. 


In  case  of  fire  all  Artists  will  please  gather  in 
the  center  of  the  stage  and  wait  orders  from  the 
Stage  Manager. 


89 


"  Good   Morning." 

NEVER  AGAIN 

HARRY  FOX,  with  his  two  little  pard- 
ners,  the  Millership  Sisters,  Flora  and 
Lillian  ("  Lillian  is  the  one  in  yel- 
low"), were  playing  at  the  New  Or- 
leans Orpheum.  As  it  was  Mardi  Gras  week 
and  everything  was  crowded,  Harry  "  doubled 
up  "  for  the  week  with  a  Contortionist  by  the 
name  of  Marseilles,  and  they  took  a  large  room 
with  two  beds  in  it. 

It  was  Harry's  first  visit  to  New  Orleans,  and 
his  first  meeting  with  the  Contortionist.  But  the 
Contortionist  was  well  acquainted,  and  after  the 
show  Monday  night  he  took  Harry  out  to  meet 
some  of  his  friends.     Harry  says  he  never  met 

90 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

a  man  who  knew  so  many  bartenders  in  his  life. 
The  result  was  that  when  Harry  woke  up  in  the 
morning  he  did  not  remember  going  to  bed. 

Now  all  the  beds  in  New  Orleans  have  mos- 
quito nets  over  them;  this  was  also  a  new  wrin- 
kle on  Harry.  And  when  he  woke  up  it  hap- 
pened that  his  face  was  right  close  up  to  this 
mosquito  netting  as  it  hung  down  at  the  side  of 
the  bed.  He  opened  his  eyes,  but  he  could  not 
see;  he  winked  several  times  and  shook  his  head; 
but  it  was  no  use;  everything  was  blurred  to  him; 
the  fearful  thought  came  to  him, 

"  I  am  going  blind;  everything  looks  misty  and 
blurred  to  me." 

Cold  chills  began  to  run  up  and  down  his  back 
at  the  horror  of  it;  he  seemed  paralyzed;  he  could 
not  move.  And  then,  from  somewhere  out  in 
that  blur  of  misty  light  a  voice  said, 

"  Good  morning." 

Harry  peered  closer  out  through  the  mist  be- 
fore him,  and  after  a  moment's  search  he  gave 
a  yell  and  started  upright  in  the  bed  with  a  scream 
of  fright.  For  there,  standing  in  the  center  of 
the  room  was  the  Contortionist,  "  limbering  up." 
He  was  standing  with  his  toes  pointing  toward 
Harry,  but  he  had  bent  himself  over  backwards 

9i 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

until  his  head  was  way  down  between  his  legs, 
with  his  face  sticking  out  through  in  front,  look- 
ing at  Harry  with  a  cheerful  grin. 

This  was  at  eleven  forty-five;  at  twelve  ten 
Harry  was  over  at  the  office  of  a  justice  of  the 
peace,  taking  the  pledge. 


92 


THE  ARTISTIC  TEMPERAMENT 

SOME  folks  are  of  an  artistic  nature;  some 
folks  are  satisfied  if  things  are  useful, 
while  others  like  to  have  them  ornamental 
as  well.  A  lady  friend  of  ours,  up  in  New 
Hampshire,  belongs  to  this  latter  class.  She  likes 
to  see  things  about  the  house  look  neat  and  pretty. 
One  of  the  things  that  grated  on  her  artistic 
sense  was  the  bath  tub;  it  held  water  all  right, 
and  it  was  clean  enough;  but  it  was  a  plain,  un- 
painted  tin  affair  and  she  shuddered  every  time 
she  looked  at  it.  Every  time  she  took  a  bath  she 
shuddered  twice. 

One  evening  while  reading  The  Ladies'  Home 
Journal,  she  came  across  the  heading  — "  How  to 
Enamel  a  Tin  Bath  Tub."  "  Ah  ha  !  At  last !  " 
She  read  the  article;  then  she  read  it  again;  it 
was  simple  enough;  she  could  do  it;  she  knew 
she  could.  And  she  also  knew  that  if  it  was  done, 
she  would  have  to  do  it;  for  Hubbie  didn't  have 
the    Artistic   Temperament   worth   a    cent.     He 

93 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

wouldn't  have  cared  if  the  bath  tub  was  made  of 
old  rubber  boots;  he  didn't  use  it  much  anyway. 

So  the  next  morning  she  took  the  clipping  from 
the  paper  down  to  the  paint  store,  bought  a  can 
of  enamel,  a  bottle  of  varnish  and  a  paint  brush, 
and  after  dinner  went  after  that  bath  tub.  First 
she  scrubbed  it  thoroughly;  then  she  dried  it;  and 
then  she  put  on  the  white  enamel;  a  good  job 
too.  But  as  she  stood  back  and  looked  at  it,  it 
did  not  quite  fill  the  bill;  it  was  rather  thin;  the 
tin  showed  through  in  spots.  Well,  if  one  coat 
was  good,  two  coats  ought  to  be  better;  so  she 
went  back  and  put  on  another  coat.  It  was  a 
great  improvement;  wonderful,  in  fact;  a  third 
coat  would  make  it  look  like  the  finest  marble; 
so  on  went  a  third  coat. 

The  next  thing,  according  to  the  printed  direc- 
tions, was  the  coat  of  varnish.  Now  the  man 
that  wrote  those  directions  probably  took  it  for 
granted  that  any  one  using  them  would  know 
enough  to  let  one  coat  dry  before  putting  on  an- 
other; so  he  did  not  mention  that  fact  in  his 
directions.  And  so  now,  according  to  directions, 
our  lady  friend,  not  content  with  putting  on  three 
coats  of  enamel,  all  at  one  sitting,  proceeded  to 
put  on  the  coat  of  varnish. 

94 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

The  directions  then  were  to  fill  the  bath  tub 
with  cold  water  and  let  it  set  for  twenty-four 
hours. 

As  this  was  on  a  Wednesday,  and  of  course 
there  could  be  no  use  for  the  tub  before  Saturday, 
she  let  the  water  set  until  that  time,  in  order  to 
let  the  paint  get  "  set "  good  and  firm. 

Saturday  night  she  went  in  and  let  the  water 
out  and  after  admiring  the  white  and  gleaming 
tub  for  awhile  she  proceeded  to  take  her  bath. 
Usually,  on  account  of  her  hatred  for  the  old 
tin  tub,  she  made  this  ceremony  as  short  as  pos- 
sible; but  to-night,  sitting  there  in  this  beautiful 
white  tub,  she  lingered;  she  could  almost  close 
her  eyes  and  imagine  herself  Cleopatra  reclining 
in  her  alabaster  bath,  waited  on  by  slaves;  she 
reached  up  and  got  a  bottle  of  perfume  from  a 
shelf  over  her  head  and  perfumed  the  waters. 
And  she  decided  that  in  addition  to  the  regular 
Saturday  night  performance  she  should  hereafter 
play  a  Wednesday  matinee. 

But  all  good  things  come  to  an  end;  and  finally 
she  decided  to  arise;  with  a  sigh  she  placed  her 
hands  on  the  side  of  the  tub  and  lifted;  with  a 
scream  she  took  her  hands  off  the  side  of  the  tub 
and  settled  back,  and  felt.     She  discovered  that 

95 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

this  "  good  thing "  had  "  come  to  an  end  "  in 
more  ways  than  one;  and  that  as  far  as  she  was 
able  to  discover  "  the  end "  and  "  the  good 
thing  "  were  liable  to  remain  together  indefinitely; 
for  she  had  settled  into  that  mess  of  paint,  enamel 
and  varnish,  until  she  and  that  bath  tub  had 
formed  an  attachment  that  nothing  short  of  a 
doctor  or  a  plumber  could  separate. 

For  purely  personal  reasons  she  did  not  want 
to  call  for  either  the  doctor  or  the  plumber.  And 
much  less  did  she  want  to  explain  her  predica- 
ment to  her  husband.  She  always  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  facing  her  troubles  bravely;  but  here 
was  a  situation  where  this  rule  was  hard  to  fol- 
low. Another  rule  she  had  always  tried  to  fol- 
low was  to  put  her  troubles  behind  her;  but,  al- 
though she  was  now  following  this  rule,  somehow 
it  brought  no  relief. 

Meanwhile,  while  she  sat  there  thinking  all 
these  things  over,  the  paint  was  setting  harder 
than  ever;  ditto  the  lady.  Something  must  be 
done;  and  she  had  got  to  do  it  herself.  So  she 
began  a  sort  of  rocking  movement;  back  and 
forth,  side  to  side,  she  twisted  and  writhed.  She 
realized,  more  than  ever,  how  much  she  had  be- 
come attached  to  that  old  tin  bath  tub;  she  real- 

96 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

ized  how  it  was  going  to  pain  her  to  break  away 
from  it;  sometimes  she  doubted  as  to  whether  she 
could  go  away  and  leave  it;  she  wondered  if  she 
would  have  to  go  through  life  wearing  that 
darned  old  tin  bath  tub. 

But  she  kept  weaving  back  and  forth  and  from 
side  to  side  and  little  by  little,  inch  by  inch,  she 
could  feel  something  giving  way;  she  was  not 
sure,  yet,  whether  it  was  the  tub,  the  paint  or 
herself;  but  something  was  giving  way.  And  at 
last,  with  one  agonizing  jerk,  she  broke  away  and 
arose  to  her  feet.  And  then  she  turned  and 
looked  down  into  the  tub  to  see  what  had  hap- 
pened; and  what  she  saw  there  brought  a  sigh  of 
relief  to  her  lips;  for  she  discovered  that  she  was 
still  intact;  and  the  tub  was  all  there;  what  had 
given  way  was  the  paint;  and  gleaming  up  at  her 
from  the  bottom  of  the  bath  tub,  like  a  full  moon 
through  the  clouds,  was  a  bright  and  shining  cir- 
cle of  the  tin,  free  from  all  encumbrance  in  the 
shape  of  paint  or  varnish. 

As  I  say,  she  gave  a  sigh  of  relief;  but  almost 
instantly  this  sigh  of  relief  was  followed  by  a  gasp 
of  dismay.  //  the  paint  was  gone  from  the  tub, 
where  was  it? 

Again  she  discovered  that,  although  her  trou- 

97 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

bles  were  all  behind  her,  they  were  still  with  her. 
Frantically  grasping  soap,  scrubbing  brush  and 
towel  she  tried  to  erase  the  foul  stain  from  her 
character.  But  after  five  minutes'  frantic  labor 
she  discovered  that  her  trouble  was  too  deep 
seated  for  soap  and  water. 

She  tried  toilet  water;  witch  hazel;  bay  rum; 
listerine;  any  and  everything  in  reach;  and  the 
villain  still  pursued  her.  Every  moment  was  get- 
ting precious  now;  Hubbie  was  about  due  to  come 
home,  and  if  Hubbie  ever  found  out  about  this  — 
well  —  life  would  be  one  grand  sweet  laugh  to 
him  "  from  thence  henceonward  forever." 
Hastily  wrapping  her  bathrobe  about  her  she  went 
to  the  telephone  and  called  up  the  paint  store, 
and  in  frantic  tones  asked  the  paint  man  what  she 
could  use  to  remove  paint  from  anything.  The 
paint  man  asked  what  the  paint  was  on.  She 
said  it  was  on  her  fingers;  and  it  was  —  some  of 
it.  The  man  told  her  to  use  spirits  of  turpen- 
tine.    And  she  did. 

When  the  lady  recovered  consciousness  —  but 
what's  the  use;  this  was  told  to  me  in  confidence 
anyway,  and  I  promised  not  to  say  a  word  about  it. 
So  I  won't. 

ifc  ♦  i|c  +  ♦  ♦  ♦ 

98 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

We  were  calling  on  some  German  friends  of 
ours  in  Minneapolis.  Their  daughter's  husband 
had  just  purchased  an  automobile  and  the  old 
folks  were  all  fussed  up  over  it.  It  was  all  they 
could  think  or  talk  about.  Finally  Mother  asked 
me  which  I  considered  the  best  make  of  car. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  it  is  rather  a  peculiar  thing, 
but  our  best  American  cars  all  seem  to  have  names 
beginning  with  the  letter  P.  There  is  the  Pierce 
Arrow,  the  Peerless  and  the  Packard — " 

"  Ja,"  said  Mother  eagerly,  "  and  the  Puick." 

*  *     * 

Oh  You  Pinkie! 
"  Miss  Pink  Bump,  of  Hickory  Grove,  is  vis- 
iting at  the  home  of  George  Flemming." —  Mill- 
ed gville  (III.)  Free  Press. 

*  *      * 

The  "  Bobbie  "  Richardsons  had  just  moved 
from  Kansas  City  to  Kalamazoo.  They  had 
brought  their  old  colored  cook  with  them,  but 
had  had  to  secure  a  "  local  talent  "  nurse-maid 
for  the  two  little  girls.  On  the  afternoon  of 
their  second  day  in  their  new  home  two  ladies 
dropped  in  to  pay  their  respects  to  their  new 
neighbors.      Mrs.  Bobbie  hurriedly  sent  the  new 

99 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

nurse-maid  upstairs  to  prepare  little  Alice  and 
Mary  for  inspection  and  went  in  to  receive  her 
visitors. 

Everything  was  progressing  finely,  when  all  at 
once  a  clear,  shrill  little  voice  came  floating  down 
the  stairway  — 

"  I  don't  care !  company  or  no  company,  I  will 
not  be  washed  in  spit." 

(Wanted:  A  Nurse-maid.  Baptist  pre- 
ferred.) 

*     *     * 

Tom  McRae  is  the  leading  lawyer  of  Prescott, 
Ark.  Before  the  War  the  McRaes  were  large 
slaveowners;  and  to  this  day  if  one  of  the  col- 
ored people  gets  into  any  trouble  he  immediately 
comes  to  "  Mars'  Tom  "  to  help  him  out.  One 
day  last  summer  the  village  barber,  a  big,  sporty 
kind  of  a  young  colored  chap,  came  in  to  Tom's 
office  and  said, 

"  Mars'  Tom,  I  reckons  as  how  I'll  have  to 
have  you  get  me  a  devose  frum  dat  wife  of  mine." 

"A  divorce?  What  are  you  talking  about? 
If  you  ever  get  a  divorce  from  Caroline  you  will 
starve  to  death.  You  have  got  one  of  the  best 
wives  in  this  town." 

"  No,  suh,  no,  suh,  Mars'  Tom.  Youall  don't 
ioo 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


know  dat  woman, 
igant  woman  in  the  whole  State  of  Arkansas. 
Mo'nin',  noon  an'  night  dat  woman  is  pesterin' 
me  fo'  money.  Dollar  hyar  —  fo'  bits  dere  — 
two  bits  fo'  dis  and  a  dime  fo'  that.  I  don'  dare 
go  home  no  mo'.  No,  suh,  de  only  thing  that  is 
goin'  do  me  no  good  is  a  devose." 

"  Well,  I  am  astonished,"  said  Tom.  "  I  never 
dreamed  Caroline  was  that  kind  of  a  woman. 
What  does  she  do  with  all  this  money?  " 

"  God  knows,  Mars'  Tom.     I  hain't  never  give 

her  none  yet." 

*  *      * 

We  were  playing  in  New  York.  Preceding  us 
on  the  bill  were  the  Martin  Brothers,  playing  for 
twenty-two  minutes  on  Xylophones.  After  the 
show  a  friend  of  ours  from  Hartford,  Conn., 
joined  us  at  lunch.  We  were  discussing  the  show 
and  finally  he  said, 

'  Will,  do  you  know  I  could  live  a  long  time, 
and  be  perfectly  happy,  if  I  never  heard  one  of 

those  picket-fence  soloists  again." 

*  *      * 

My  wife  was  drinking  a  glass  of  iced  tea;  he 
kept  glancing  at  it  and  finally  he  said, 

"  Do   you    know,    I    can    understand    anybody 

IOI 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

drinking  that  stuff  at  home;  or  if  somebody  had 
given  it  to  you.     But  the  idea  of  anybody  buying 

it!  and  paying  for  it." 

*  *      * 

Solomon  and  David  were  merry  kings  of  old, 

About  whose  pleasant  fancies  full  many  a  tale  is 
told. 

But  when  old  age  o'ertook  them,  with  its  many, 
many  qualms, 

King  Solomon  wrote  the  Proverbs  and  King  Da- 
vid wrote  the  Psalms. 

*  *      * 

In  a  restaurant  window  on  Thirteenth  Street, 
St.  Louis : 
"  Small  Steak,  20  cents.     Extra  Small  Steak,  25 

cents." 

*  *      * 

In  a  bakery  window  in  Omaha: 

"  Homemade  pize  fifteen  cents." 

*  *      * 

"Married:  At  East  Walpole,  Mass.,  Jan. 
27th,  19 1 2,  Robert  P.  Bass,  Governor  of  New 
Hampshire,  and  Miss  Edith  Harlan  Bird." 

(The  members  of  the  New  Hampshire  Fish 
and  Game  League  will  now  arise  and  sing: 
"  What  Shall  the  Harvest  Be.") 

102 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

The  hardest  luck  story  I  have  run  across  lately 

was  a  fellow  playing  a  moving  picture  house  in 

Salt  Lake  City  who  had  a  check  come  to  him  by 

mail.     The   check  was    for  twenty-five   dollars; 

and  the  only  man  in  town  who  could  identify  him 

was  a  man  he  owed  thirty  dollars. 
*     *     * 

I  see  there  is  an  act  playing  in  Vaudeville  this 
year  by  the  name  of  Doolittle  &  Steel.  Make 
your  own  jokes. 


103 


HOW  MIKE  DONLIN  SHRUNK 

THE  management  of  the  Majestic  Thea- 
ter in  Chicago  always  have  a  small  sign 
at  the  side  of  the  stage  announcing  the 
headline  act  for  the  following  week. 
Upon  this  particular  occasion  this  sign  announced 
the  coming  of  Mabel  Hite  and  Mike  Donlin. 

There  was  a  chap  sitting  down  in  front  with 
his  girl,  who  wanted  her  to  think  that  he  knew 
everybody  and  everything  in  Vaudeville.  You 
know,  one  of  those  people  who  call  all  actors  and 
actresses  by  their  first  names,  and  can  tell  you 
(incorrectly)   all  about  their  private  affairs. 

Finally  it  came  time  for  Melville  &  Higgins 
to  appear;  and  in  order  for  you  to  appreciate  this 
incident,  I  will  mention  that  Mr.  Higgins  is  built 
on  the  same  general  principle  as  a  string  bean; 
he  has  been  known  to  conceal  himself  behind  an 
umbrella. 

Now  when  it  is  time  for  this  act  to  come  on,  all 
the  lights  in  the  house  are  thrown  out,  and  a  spot 

104 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

light  is  thrown  on  the  stage  over  near  the  en- 
trance from  which  they  are  to  come  on.  It  so 
happened  on  this  occasion  that  the  light  just  cov- 
ered the  sign  announcing  "  Mabel  Hite  &  Mike 
Donlin  "  but  did  not  light  up  the  words  "  Next 
Week." 

The  Bureau  of  Mis-information  down  in  front, 
with  his  lady-love,  had  just  started  to  look  at  his 
program  when  the  lights  went  out,  so  that  he  had 
been  unable  to  make  out  who  came  next.  Now 
he  looked  up  and  saw  that  sign  for  the  first  time 
— "  Mabel  Hite  &  Mike  Donlin." 

"  Why,  I  thought  they  were  here  next  week," 
he  said.     "  Now  you  will  see  something  good." 

Just  then  Melville  &  Higgins  walked  out  on  the 
stage.  The  chap  down  in  front  started  to  ap- 
plaud, then  his  jaw  dropped,  and  he  gasped  out, 

"  My  God,  how  Mike  has  fallen  away." 

*      *      * 

N/The  manager  of  a  small  Moving  Picture  and 
Vaudeville  Theater  in  Lincoln,  Nebraska,  was 
watching  the  opening  show  of  the  week.  A  Hor- 
izontal Bar  came  on,  two  men,  one  a  straight 
acrobat,  the  other  a  clown.  As  soon  as  the  act 
was  over  the  manager  went  back  and  fired  the 
clown. 

105 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"Fired?"  said  the  clown  in  amazement; 
"what  for?" 

"  Because  you  can't  do  nothin' ;  you  missed1 
every  trick  you  went  after;  t'other  feller  is  all 

right;  he  can  work." 

*  *     * 

Joe  Keaton,  "  the  Man  With  the  Table,  a  Wife 
and  Three  Kids,"  was  in  three  hotel  fires  inside 
of  fourteen  months.  But  he  always  managed  to 
get  his  little  family  out  safe.  In  addition  to  do- 
ing that,  he  always  managed  to  save  something; 
and  that  something  was  the  same  every  time. 
When  they  had  all  got  down  the  fire  escapes,  and 
had  reached  a  place  of  safety,  Joe  would  find 

clutched  tightly  in  his  hand  —  a  cake  of  soap. 

*  *      * 

\J One  night  Ezra  Kendal  left  his  wife  at  the 
elevator  in  the  Union  Hotel  in  Chicago,  saying 
that  he  would  be  right  up  in  a  few  minutes.  Two 
hours  later  he  came  up  to  the  room. 

"Where  have  you  been  all  this  time,  Ezra?" 
asked  his  wife. 

"  I  met  a  couple  of  Interlocutors  downstairs, 
and  I  have  been  doing  End  Man  to  them,"  said 
Ezra. 

106 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


It   Isn't  the  Coat  that  makes  the  Man. 

Fred  Niblo  and  his  wife  (Josephine  Cohan) 
were  playing  at  Proctor's  23d  Street  Theater  in 
New  York.  Fred  always  wore  a  Prince  Albert 
coat  in  his  act.  On  this  day  he  had  considerable 
trouble  in  getting  his  necktie  to  suit  him.  Finally 
he  got  arranged,  slipped  on  the  Prince  Albert, 
buttoned  it,  took  one  final  look  into  the  glass,  and 
started  for  the  door. 

'  Where  are  you  going,  dear?  "  asked  Mrs.  N. 
in  that  wifely  tone  that  always  makes  a  man  shrink. 

107 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Why,  I  am  going  out  to  do  my  act,"  said 
Fred.     "Why?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  N.,  "  only  I  thought 
perhaps  you  would  want  to  put  some  trousers  on." 


1 08 


A  NIGHT  IN  BOHEMIA 

WHEN  George  W.  Day  got  married 
he  took  awful  chances.  Well,  of 
course,  we  all  do,  for  that  matter;  but 
George  took  more  than  usual,  for  he 
married  into  a  Scotch  Presbyterian  family,  and 
anybody  knows  that  Actors  and  Scotch  Presby- 
terians were  not  originally  created  for  Affinities. 
But  George,  in  addition  to  being  an  Actor,  is  a 
Musician,  an  Artist  and  a  Corking  Good  Fellow, 
and  the  wife's  folks,  after  taking  him  on  proba- 
tion for  ten  or  fifteen  years,  finally  decided  that 
they  would  accept  him  into  the  family. 

Up  to  two  or  three  years  ago,  Mother-in-law 
was  the  only  one  of  the  family  who  had  visited 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  in  their  New  York  home; 
the  rest  of  the  family  had  continued  to  reside  in 
Peaceful  Valley,  or  wherever  it  was,  and  hope  for 
the  best  for  that  poor  erring  daughter  who  had 
fallen  victim  to  the  wiles  of  "  a  Actor."  But 
finally  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  and  Mother-in-law 

109 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

had  persuaded  Mother-in-law's  two  sisters  and  one 
of  the  sister's  husbands  to  come  down  to  New 
York  and  visit  the  Days. 

Uncle  Abinidab  was  a  tall,  ministerial  appear- 
ing man,  "  ninety  years  of  age,  and  whiskers  down 
to  here  ";  he  dressed  in  a  black  pair  of  trousers, 
a  black  Prince  Albert  coat,  black  tie,  and  a  black 
slouch  hat. 

The  two  aunts  wore  the  black  silk  dresses  that 
their  father  had  brought  from  India  sixty  years 
ago.     Mother-in-law  was  also  dressed  in  black. 

George  worked  in  as  many  "  neutral  tints  "  on 
his  own  wardrobe  as  he  could,  trying  to  "  tone 
down  "  to  fit  the  occasion.  The  ice  box  was  used 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  storing  food;  George's 
cigars,  pipes  and  tobacco  were  locked  up  in  an 
old  trunk  in  the  storeroom.  The  family  Bible 
was  hunted  up,  dusted,  and  placed  in  a  conspicuous 
position  on  the  centertable  in  the  front  room. 
George  carefully  censored  his  drawings  which 
were  stuck  up  on  the  walls  all  over  the  house; 
and  any  lady  who  did  not  have  on  a  Buffalo  over- 
coat and  rubber  boots  was  placed  out  in  the  trunk 
with  the  pipes. 

The  week  that  followed  was  "  one  round  of 
gayety  "  for  the  folks.     George  walked  off  over 

no 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

five  pounds  showing  them  the  Brooklyn  bridge, 
Central  Park,  Grant's  tomb,  Fifth  Avenue, 
Fleischman's  bread  line,  Macy's  store,  the  post- 
office,  Tammany  Hall,  and  every  church  in  the 
city. 

It  took  them  the  first  five  days  to  play  this 
route.  And  then  on  Friday  night  Mother-in-law 
horrified  George  by  informing  the  others  that  on 
the  next  day  she  and  George  would  show  them 
Coney  Island.  By  going  out  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  in  the  evenings,  and  rehearsing  his  day's 
route  in  advance,  George  had  managed  so  far  to 
conduct  his  little  Company  around  the  city  with- 
out running  them  into  any  "  High  Life."  But  he 
knew  that  if  that  crowd  ever  struck  Coney  Island 
on  a  good  busy  afternoon,  his  hopes  of  becoming 
a  favorite  son-in-law  were  gone. 

But  Mother  insisted,  so  the  next  morning  he 
took  Deacon  Abinidab  and  the  three  "  sisters  in 
black  "  and  started  for  Coney  Island.  Although 
I  have  examined  him  closely  on  this  point,  he  does 
not  seem  to  have  any  very  clear  idea  yet  as  to 
where  they  went  that  day,  or  what  they  did.  All 
he  can  say  is  that  "  it  was  awful."  They  insisted 
on  Hot  Dogs,  Pop  Corn,  Peanut  Brittle,  Dream- 
land,   Luna    Park,    and   all   the    rest;   they   went 

in 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

through  the  Old  Mill,  and  they  made  George  come 
down  the  "  Bump  the  Bumps,"  "  Shoot  the 
Shoots  "  and  such  other  exhilarating  devices  as 
they  did  not  dare  to  tackle  themselves. 

They  had  supper  in  Henderson's,  watching  the 
Vaudeville  show  on  the  stage  as  they  ate.  They 
watched  the  fireworks,  and  it  was  ten  o'clock  be- 
fore George  could  get  them  started  toward  home. 
When  he  got  them  on  the  train,  homeward  bound, 
he  heaved  a  sigh  of  mighty  relief,  but  afterwards 
regretted  wasting  a  sigh  of  that  sort  in  that  way. 

Arriving  in  New  York,  they  were  wending  their 
way  up  Broadway,  near  Twenty-ninth  Street; 
Uncle  Abinidab  had  been  sort  of  hanging  back 
for  a  block  or  two,  looking  here  and  there  in  a 
searching  kind  of  way,  and  finally  he  took 
George's  arm  and  said  confidentially:  "  George, 
laddie,  do  ye  ken  a  place  where  we  can  get  a  wee 
nippie?"  George  didn't  know  whether  the  in- 
quiry was  on  the  level,  or  whether  it  was  a  sort 
of  "  feeler  "  to  find  out  how  he  stood  on  the  tem- 
perance question.  But  he  decided  to  "  play 
safety  "  so  he  stated  promptly  that  he  did  not 
know  of  such  a  place  in  New  York  City. 

But  Mother!  Ah  ha!  That  mother-in-law, 
that  since  Creation's  dawn  has  been  abused  and 

I  12 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

vilified,  that  mother-in-law,  that  through  all  those 
years  George  had  feared  and  dreaded;  that  moth- 
er-in-law, at  whose  approach  he  had  hidden  his 
pipe  and  tobacco;  that  mother-in-law  that  he  had 
never  approached  without  a  clove  and  a  stage 
fright.  Now,  it  was  she  who  spoke  up  like  Hora- 
tio at  the  Bridge  and  said: 

"  /  know  a  place." 

George  was  stunned;  speechless;  if  the  statue 
of  Horace  Greeley  just  passed,  had  spoken  those 
words,  he  couldn't  have  been  more  surprised.  He 
looked  at  her  in  amazement  and  asked  her  what 
"  place  "  she  knew.  "  Right  down  this  street 
here,"  she  said;  "  come  on." 

And  if  you  guessed  a  thousand  years,  you  never 
would  guess  where  that  blessed  old  lady  steered 
those  innocent  Presbyterians.  Into  "  Bohemia," 
one  of  the  swiftest,  all-night  restaurants  and  dance 
halls  in  New  York  City.  Neither  Mr.  or  Mrs. 
George  has  ever  had  the  courage  to  this  day  to 
ask  how  on  earth  Mother  came  to  even  know 
of  the  existence  of  such  a  place,  much  less  of  its 
locality. 

Down  Twenty-ninth  Street  they  marched; 
Mother  in  the  lead,  the  two  sisters  next,  then 
Uncle  Abinidab  "  with  whiskers  down  to  here," 

"3 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

and  last,  and  making  himself  the  "  least,"  he 
could,  with  his  two  hundred  and  seventy  pounds, 
came  George,  wondering  what  the  finish  would 
be.  The  Orchestra,  one  of  those  Austrian  Table- 
Dote-with-Red-Wine  Affairs,  consisting  of  half  a 
dozen  crazy  fiddlers  and  a  girl  beating  one  of 
those  woven  wire  mattress  pianos  with  a  couple 
of  sticks,  was  whooping  it  up  for  all  they  were 
worth ;  the  loud  shrill  voices  of  the  women  and 
the  hoarse  voices  of  the  men,  the  shouts  of  the 
waiters  and  the  clatter  of  dishes  made  a  very 
babel  of  sound. 

And  then  the  Presbyterian  convention  walked 
in. 

The  crowd  gave  one  look  —  and  every  sound 
stopped.  The  Orchestra  died  away  in  a  dis- 
cordant wail;  the  guests  stopped,  with  glasses 
raised  half  way  to  their  lips;  the  waiters  stood  as 
if  petrified.  Old  Bohemia  had  seen  many  strange 
sights  in  its  career;  but  no  stranger  cavalcade  had 
ever  marched  in  through  its  portals  than  this 
"  Peaceful  Valley  Quartette."  The  three  aged 
women,  dressed  in  all  the  simplicity  of  their  vil- 
lage home;  Uncle  Abinidab,  tall,  austere  and  with 
the  snow-white  whiskers,  and  behind  them,  a  big, 

114 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

smooth-faced,  broad-shouldered  young  chap  that 
looked  like  a  Plain  Clothes  Man  in  charge. 

Four  pale,  anemic,  shifty-eyed  young  fellows 
who  were  seated  at  a  table  near  the  door,  took 
one  look  at  George,  reached  under  their  chairs 
for  their  hats,  and  faded  away  through  the  door 
into  the  night.  Mother,  with  a  happy  smile,  pi- 
loted her  little  brood  over  to  an  empty  table,  and 
with  a  graceful  gesture,  motioned  them  to  be 
seated.  Then,  with  expectant  faces,  they  all 
looked  at  George.  Every  eye  in  the  place  was 
still  focussed  on  them.  The  silence  and  air  of 
expectation  which  pervaded  the  room  was  so  tense 
that  everybody  jumped  when  George  mustered 
up  courage  at  last  to  stammer, 

"  Er-er-what'll  you  have?  " 

The  silence  grew  still  more  tense  as  everybody 
leaned  forward  to  hear  the  answer.  Uncle  Abini- 
dab  glanced  at  the  sisters  nervously,  then  cleared 
his  throat  and  said: 

"Er-er-hem;  I  think  I'll  take  a  wee  drop  of 
whiskey." 

There  was  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  went  up  from 
the  whole  room,  a  sigh  which  swelled  to  an  almost 
articulate  cry  of  joy  as  Mother-in-law  chimed  in, 

115 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  I  think  I  will  too." 

The  two  sisters  voted  with  the  majority  and 
George  made  it  unanimous. 

Every  person  in  the  room,  guests,  musicians  and 
waiters,  as  if  they  could  not  really  believe  it  yet, 
watched  the  drinks  brought,  and  disposed  of. 
Then  Mother  arose  and  majestically  and  calmly 
led  her  little  flock  to  the  door  and  out  on  to  the 
street  again.  As  the  parade  turned  on  to  Broad- 
way, George  looked  back,  and  every  doorway  and 
window  in  Bohemia  was  crowded  with  faces. 
And  as  the  cavalcade  passed  from  sight  the  Or- 
chestra struck  up  their  wild  discordant  clamor, 
the  voices  and  the  laughter  broke  out  again,  and 

Bohemia  became  herself  again. 

*     *     * 

One  day  in  June  three  sweet  country  Maids 
Decided  at  home  no  more  they'd  reside. 

So  all  three  together  sat  out  on  a  tramp 
And  the  tramp  died. 

I  asked  the  old  Gate  Tender  at  a  park  in  Co- 
lumbus, Ohio,  what  time  the  electric  cars  left  for 
the  city.  Y 

"Quarter  past  —  half  past  —  quarter  of  and 
1  at,'  "  he  replied. 

116 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


5-    > 
"Vengeance  Is  Mine." 

. y/uene  Ellsworth  (Ellsworth  &  Burt)  was  play- 
ing the  part  of  Dunston  Kirk  in  the  play  of  Hazel 
Kirk.  At  the  end  of  the  last  act  Dunston,  who 
is  supposed  to  be  blind,  strikes  down  the  villain 
with  his  cane.  On  this  occasion,  just  as  'Gene 
had  his  cane  raised  to  strike  him,  a  horseshoe  fell 
from  the  flies  above,  struck  the  villain  square  on 
the  top  of  the  head,  and  knocked  him  cold. 
'Gene  saw  the  climax  of  his  scene  going,  but  quick 
as  a  flash  raised  his  hand  on  high  and  said  sol- 
emnly, 

117 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Struck  down  by  the  hand  of  an  outraged  Prov- 
idence." 

*     *     * 


One  Sure   (  ?)   Fire  Revolver. 

James  J.  Corbett  was  indulging  in  one  of  his 
semi-annual  attacks  of  acting,  and  it  came  along 
to  a  place  where  the  villain  was  to  say  —       / 

"  Then  die,  you  dog,"  V 

and  shoot  Jim,  who  fell,  wounded,  to  the  floor. 

Upon  this  occasion  the  villain  spoke  the  line, 
pulled  the  trigger,  and  Jim  fell.  But  the  gun  did 
not  go  of.  Instantly  Jim  raised  himself  on  his 
elbow  and  said  in  agonized  tones  — 

"  My  God;  shot  with  an  air  gun." 
*      *     * 

rs.  Filson  (Filson  &  Errol)  had  lost  a  ring 
in  the  Pullman  car;  after  quite  a  search  the  porter 
found  it  and  brought  it  to  her. 

118 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  My  Goodness,  Lady,"  he  said,  "  but  you  cer- 
tainly is  mighty  lucky;  there  was  some  acters  in 
this  cyar  las'  night,  an'  ef  one  of  them  had  found 
it  —  good-by  ring." 


119 


BREAKS 

MARSHALL  P.  WILDER  had  just 
come  off  the  stage  at  Shea's  in  Buffalo. 
His  act  had  not  gone  at  all  to  suit  him, 
and  he  stood  shaking  his  head  and 
wondering  what  was  the  matter.  A  big,  fat  acro- 
bat who  was  closing  the  show  noticed  him  and 
said, 

"What's  the  trouble,  Kid?" 
"  I   don't  know,"    said  Wilder,    "  but   I    can't 
seem  to  make  them  laugh." 

"  Augh,  don't  you  worry  about  that;  you  ain't 
supposed  to;  you   draw  'em  in;  we'll  make  'em 

laugh." 

*      *     * 

A  girl  who  was  opening  the  show  at  Keith's 
Providence  house  stood  in  the  wings  watching  the 
Four  Fords  in  their  wonderful  dancing  act.  At 
the  end  they  came  off,  panting  and  gasping  from 
their  violent  exercise.  The  girl  watched  them  a 
moment  pityingly,  then  said, 

120 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


"  Tough  work,  ain't  it?  I  used  to  do  all  that 
stuff;  but  I  found  there  wasn't  any  money  in  it, 
and  I  cut  it  out." 


"  Give  'Em  the  Gravy." 

Robert  Hilliard  came  off  the  stage  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Theater  in  New  York;  the  house  was 
small  and  he  had  not  gone  very  well.  A  big, 
rough,  knockabout  comedian  stood  waiting  his 
own  turn  to  go  on,  and  seeing  Hilliard  looked 
worried,  said  to  him, 

121 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"What's  the  matter,  Bo?" 

"  They  did  not  seem  to  care  much  for  my  offer- 
ing," said  Hilliard. 

"Why  sure  they  don't;  you  don't  hand  it  to 
'em  right.     Give  'em  the  Gravy,  Cull,  give  'em 

the  Gravy.     /  do." 

*  *     * 

William  Hawtry  had  made  his  debut  in  Vyade- 
ville  and  his  friends  at  the  Lambs'  Clu]r  were 
asking  him  how  he  liked  it. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Hawtry,  "  I  m'ust  say  I 
found  the  audience  very  responsive ;  and  the  thea- 
ter employes  were  very  kind;  but  I  met  some  of 
the  strangest  people,  among  the  Artists,  that  I 
ever  saw." 

Upon  being  asked  wherein  they  were  strange, 
he  replied, 

"  Why,  there  is  a  fellow  dressing  with  me  who 
has  the  largest  diamonds  and  the  dirtiest  under- 
wear I  ever  saw." 

*  *     * 


122 


THE  DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  NEW 
YORK  AND  CANANDAIGUA 

WE  were  touring  in  our  auto  from  New 
Hampshire  out  to  Buffalo.  For  sev- 
eral days  everything  had  gone  well. 
And  then,  within  ninety  miles  of  Buf- 
falo, everything  went  wrong  at  once.  I  had  had 
two  blow-outs  the  previous  day,  and  had  bought 
two  casings.  Then,  just  as  we  were  coming  into 
Canandaigua  my  whole  transmission  went.  This 
was  ten  or  twelve  years  ago,  and  the  nearest  thing 
Canandaigua  had  to  a  garage  was  a  tin  shop.  I 
got  the  car  pulled  in  under  a  wagon  shed  and 
put  in  eighteen  hours  building  a  new  transmission 
out  of  an  old  copper  pump  and  a  rainspout. 

Buying  the  two  casings  had  "  broke  "  me,  and 
now  I  had  a  two-days'  hotel  bill  for  four  people, 
and  nothing  to  pay  it  with.  Fine !  But  with  my 
most  winning  way  I  went  up  to  the  desk  and  said 
to  the  old  landlord, 

"  Mr.   Landlord,    I   am   in   rather   an   embar- 
123 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

rassing  fix.  I  owe  you  a  bill  and  I  have  no 
money." 

The  landlord  was  a  quaint,  silent  old  fellow, 
with  thick  glasses  and  a  very  disconcerting  stare. 
He  now  used  this  stare  hard  and  said  nothing.  So 
I  hastened  to  add  — 

"  Of  course  I  have  got  money,  but  I  haven't 
got  it  with  me;  and  I  shall  have  to  give  you  a 
check." 

He  just  gave  a  little  sniff  and  turned  his  head 
an.i  glanced  up  at  a  framed  card  above  the  desk 
which  read  — 


NO   CHECKS   CASHED. 


"  But,"  I  hastened  to  add,  "  I'll  tell  you  what 
I  would  like  to  have  you  do.  You  telegraph,  at 
my  expense  of  course,  to  Mr.  Murphy,  of  the 
Genesee  Hotel,  or  Mr.  Shea,  at  Shea's  Theater, 
and  I  think  they  will  assure  you  that  Will  Cressy's 
check  is  good." 

He  sniffed  again  and  looked  at  me  through 
those  big  glasses,  and  I  began  to  get  rattled  in 
earnest.     There  must  be  some  way;  I  must  have 

124 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

something  that  will  convince  this  man  I  am  not  a 
crook.  I  have  it !  My  Identification  Card  from 
my  insurance  company.  Hastily  getting  out  my 
pocketbook  I  showed  him  this  card. 

"  I  can  show  you  all  right  that  I  am  Will 
Cressy.  See?  Here  is  my  picture;  and  how 
heavy  I  am;  and  how  tall;  and  the  color  of  my 
eyes;  and  hair;  and  my  signature." 

Anxiously  I  looked  up  at  him  again.  And  I 
hadn't  touched  him.  I  began  to  get  desperate. 
Frantically  I  searched  through  my  pocketbook  for 
something  that  would  show  my  identity.  I 
dragged  out  my  different  Club  Cards. 

"  See!  "  I  said,  "  I  belong  to  the  Lambs'  Club, 
in  New  York;  and  the  Friars;  and  the  Green 
Room  Club;  and  the  Touring  Club  of  America; 
and  the  Vaudeville  Comedy  Club." 

I  stopped;  almost  tearfully  I  looked  at  him.  I 
could  do  no  more.  He  sniffed  again,  shifted  his 
weight  from  one  foot  to  the  other  and  said, 

"  You're  a  hell  of  a  feller  when  you're  home, 
ain't  ye?" 

As  I  was  going  to  the  theater  in  Indianapolis  I 
passed  two  ladies  who  were  busily  discussing  a 
third. 

125 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  You  know  she  can't  hear  very  well,"  said  one. 
"  No,  I  see  she  can't,"  said  the  other. 

"  Bobbie "  Richardson  was  not  feeling  very 
well,  and  for  the  past  four  nights  had  been  tak- 
ing a  couple  of  pills  each  night.  The  fifth  night 
Mrs.  Bobbie  happened  to  glance  over  toward  him 
just  as  he  was  about  to  take  his  two  pills. 

"  Bobbie,"  she  sa^d  with  a  gasp,  "  what  are  you 
doing?"  V 

"  I  am  taking  a  couple  of  my  pills,"  replied 
Bobbie. 

"  My  Goodness,"  said  Mrs.  Bobbie,  "  those  are 
not  pills;  that  is  a  bottle  I  gave  Alice  to  keep  her 

beads  in." 

*     *     * 

Julius  Tannen  and  his  wife  were  —  er  —  talk- 
ing it  over.  That  is,  she  was;  Julius  was  playing 
he  was  the  audience.  Finally/  Julius  got  an  open- 
ing and  said,  w 

"  Say,  what  would  you  think  if  you  and  I  ever 
thought  the  same  about  something?  " 

Quick  as  a  flash  Mrs.  Julius  answered, 

"  I  should  know  I  was  wrong." 


126 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 
1L 


The  Band  of  Hope. 

LET  US  HOPE 

"  The  Normal  School  Band  uniforms  will  con- 
sist of  a  coat  and  cap  at  first,  with  the  probable 
addition  of  trousers  at  a  later  date." —  Kalama- 
zoo Gazette.  \  / 

*    *  V  * 

At  the  Seelback  Hotel  in  Louisville,  Ky.,  I 
asked  the  colored  waiter  if  they  served  a  table 
d'hote  meal  in  the  morning.  He  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  then  picked  up  the  bill  of  fare,  studied 
on  it  for  a  moment,  then  said, 

"  Er  —  no,  suh  ;  we  haven't  got  table  doe  meal, 
but  we  have  got  oat  meal."  ]/ 


127 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

I  saw  a  wedding  announcement  in  a  Kansas  City 
paper  the  other  day  and  I  didn't  blame  the  girl 
a  bit.     Her  name  was  Leafy  Gose. 


Al  Fields'  (Fields  &  Lewis)  mother  and  father 
came  from  Berlin.  Father  teaches  stuttering  peo- 
ple not  to  stutter.  One  day  he  was  busily  beat- 
ing time  for  a  pupil  to  talk  to,  when  the  bell  rang; 
he  went  to  the  door  and/a  boy  handed  in  a  bun- 
dle, saying,  / 

"  Frank  Brothers."  ^ 

A  couple  of  days  afterwards  Mother  said  to 
him, 

"  Papa,  haf  you  seen  a  pair  of  slippers  come 
by  der  house  for  Mama?  " 

No,  Papa  had  seen  no  slippers. 

"  It  iss  funny  iss,"  said  Mama.  "  Two  days 
ago  yet  I  buy  me  a  pair  of  slippers  from  Frank 
Brothers;  unt  they  say  they  vill  sent  them  by  a 
boy  to  the  house." 

"  From  who  iss  it?  "  asked  Papa  anxiously. 

"  From  Frank  Brothers." 

"  Gott  in  Himmel;  I  thought  the  boy  said 
4  Frankfurters  ' ;  they  are  the  ice  box  in." 


128 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Al  and  his  father  were  sitting  at  the  breakfast 
table. 

"  Where  iss  it  that  you  go  next  veek?  "  asked 
Papa. 

"  Birmingham,"  said  Al  shortly. 

At  this  moment  Mama  came  in  from  the 
kitchen,  and  overheard. 

"  No,  Allie,"  she  said  quickly,  "  it  iss  not  the 

ham  vat  iss  burning;  it  iss  the  eggs." 

*  *      * 

In  the  "  George  Washington,  Jr.,"  Company 
there  was  a  young  lady  who  laid  great  stress  on 
the  refined  atmosphere  in  which  she  had  been 
brought  up.  Everything  in  her  home  had  been 
just  a  little  more  refined  than  any  one  else  had 
ever  enjoyed.  One  day  at  the  table  the  subject 
of  coffee-drinking  came  up;  some  thought  it  harm- 
ful, others  did  not;  finally  Carter  De  Haven  asked 
this  young  lady  what  she  thought  about  it. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  in  her  precise  way,  "  I  don't 
think  it  hurts  anybody.  I  know  Papa  always 
drank  five  and  six  saucersful  every  morning,  and 

it  never  hurt  him." 

*  *      * 


129 


THE  OLD  SHIP  OF  ZION 

OLD  Dennie  O'Brion  had  looked  upon 
the  wine  when  it  was  red  in  the  cup 
so  long  that  he  was  about  down  and 
out;  no  one  would  hire  him  any  more, 
even  in  the  most  menial  capacity.  His  poor, 
hard-working  wife  had  at  last  taken  the  pledge 
not  to  support  him  any  longer  in  idleness,  so  it 
was  up  to  Dennie  to  do  something  desperate. 
The  most  desperate  thing  he  could  think  of  was 
to  swear  off.  So  before  the  priest  he  took  a  sol- 
emn vow  not  to  touch  a  drop  of  liquor  for  one 
year. 

And  he  managed  to  retain  his  seat  on  the  wagon 
splendidly —  for  thirty-six  hours. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day  Mrs.  O'Brion, 
in  appreciation  of  his  desperate  efforts  to  con- 
quer the  demon  rum,  took  Dennie  and  their 
twelve-year-old-son  Mickie  to  the  theater.  It  was 
a  rollicking,  up-to-date,  musical  comedy.  The 
boys  and  the  girls  of  the  chorus  at  the  rise  of 
the  curtain  gayly  quaffed  huge  quantities  of  imag- 

130 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

inary  wine  from  near-golden  goblets.  The  Come- 
dian was  a  jolly,  jovial  souse  who  never,  during 
the  first  two  acts,  got  sober  but  once,  and  then 
got  into  trouble  by  it. 

The  first  act  took  place  in  a  Parisian  cafe, 
where  the  chorus  men  were  all  American  million- 
aires buying  wine  for  the  Chorus  Ladies. 

The  second  act  took  place  in  a  brewery,  where 
the  Comedian  fell  into  a  beer  vat  and  was  only 
saved  by  the  number  of  champaign  corks  he  had 
in  his  pockets,  which  acted  as  life  preservers. 

'Twas  a  fine  play  to  take  a  man  to  who  was 
only  thirty-six  hours  on  the  water  wagon. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  act,  when  the  Come- 
dian had  just  been  rescued  from  the  beer  vat, 
Dennie  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  began  climbing 
for  the  aisle. 

"Where  are  ye's  goin',  Dinnie?"  asked  Mrs. 
O'Brion  anxiously. 

"  Let  go  me  tail,"  says  Dennie.  "  Me  foot's 
asleep;  I  must  get  out."  And  tearing  his  coat- 
tail  away  he  hurried  up  the  aisle. 

"  Mickie,  darlin',"  said  Mrs.  O'Brion  to  her 
young  hopeful,  "  follow  your  father!  Don't  let 
him  get  into  a  saloon!  And  if  he  does,  stick  to 
him  !     Bring  him  home  !     Hurry,  now." 

131 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Mickie  hurried  out  and  caught  the  old  man  just 
as  he  was  making  the  swinging  doors. 

"  Here,  Father,  Father,  come  out  av  that !  " 
he  cried,  catching  Dennie  by  that  muchly  pulled 
coat-tail. 

"  Oh,  to  h wit  you !  "  says  Dennie.     "  Go 

back  to  your  mother!  " 

"But,  Father,  you  promised  the  priest!  You 
took  a  solemn  vow  not  to  touch  liquor  for  a  whole 
year." 

"  What  av  it?  "  says  Dennie. 

"  Well,  the  year  is  not  up,"  says  Mickie. 

"  Can!  "  says  Dennie.  "  Go  back  to  school! 
read  your  program!  Look,"  and  Dennie  pointed 
to  the  program  which  he  still  clasped  in  his  hand; 
"read  that!  'Two  years  elapses  between  the 
second  and  third  acts.'  " 

Leaving  the  dumbfounded  Mickie  there  on  the 
sidewalk,  Dennie  hurried  into  the  saloon;  but  he 
did  not  hurry  out.  Meanwhile  Mrs.  O'Brion 
went  home  and  Mickie  waited  at  the  door. 

An  hour  later  Dennie  came  out  —  endways. 
With  a  number  nine  boot  just  behind  him.  Mickie 
tenderly  assisted  his  father  to  his  feet  and  started 
him   homeward.      Dennie    had   now   reached   the 

132 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

crying  stage;  nobody  loved  him;  he  thought  he 
should  commit  suicide;  in  the  morning. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  on  this  night  the  Sal- 
vation Army  were  conducting  an  all-night  session 
at  their  barracks.  Dennie  and  Mickie  had  to 
pass  these  barracks  on  their  way  home.  The 
lights  and  the  music  caught  Dennie's  wandering 
attention,  and  he  insisted  on  going  in.  Mickie 
tried  to  tell  him  that  it  was  no  place  for  him,  a 
good  Catholic,  but  Dennie  shook  off  his  detaining 
hands  and  staggered  into  the  hall,  down  the  cen- 
ter aisle,  tripped  over  an  umbrella  handle,  and 
fell  flat  on  his  face  right  up  against  the  platform. 
Mickie  meanwhile  stood  back  near  the  door  hor- 
ror-stricken. 

The  old,  white-haired  officer  who  was  speaking 
as  Dennie  made  his  unexpected  appearance  at  his 
feet,  was  quick  to  seize  the  opportunity  and  he 
delivered  a  beautiful  and  touching  oration  on  the 
Heavenly  hand  that  had  guided  the  feet  of  this 
poor  erring  brother  here  to  the  Throne  of  Grace, 
and  he  finished  up  by  saying, 

"  And  now,  brothers  and  sisters,  let  us  all  rise 
and  sing  that  beautiful  hymn,  '  The  Old  Ship  of 
Zion.'  " 

133 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Three  minutes  afterwards  little  Mickie  burst 
into  his  own  home  and  threw  himself  into  his 
mother's  arms,  sobbing  as  if  his  heart  was  break- 
ing. 

"What  is  it,  me  darlin';  what  is  the  matter? 
Where  is  your  father?" 

"  He's  dead ;  he's  dead,"  sobbed  Mickie.  "  He 
wint  into  the  Salvation  Army,  and  he  fell  onto 
the  flure,  and  they  all  stood  up  and  begun  to  sing 
— '  The  Ould  Mick  Is  Dyin' !  '  " 

*  *     * 

From  a  letter  published  in  The  Player; 
"  The  theater  is  a  dump,  owing  to  the  unsani- 
tary condition  of  the  house  and  management." 

*  *      * 

Little  Miss  Muffet 
Sat  down  on  a  tuffet 

In  Churchill's  new  Cafe. 
A  Pittsburger  spied  'er 
And  sat  down  beside  'er 

And  they  couldn't  drive  Miss 
Muffet  away. 

*  *     * 

Special  attention  is  called  to  the  fact  that  this 
is  the  only  collection  of  stories  about  actor  folks 

134 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

ever  published,  that  does  not  have  the  one  about 
the  man  in  the  spiked  shoes  stepping  on  the  actor's 
meal  ticket. 


From  an  English  Theatrical  paper  I  clip  the 
following  names : 

Price  &  Revost;  Bumps  the  Bumps. 
Niagara  &  Falls;  French  Acrobats. 
Boston  &  Philadelphia. 
Merry  &  Glad. 
Willie  Stoppit. 

*      *      * 

Nat  Haines  was  playing  poker;  Laloo  was  one 
of  the  players.  Laloo  was  a  freak  that  came  to 
this  country  some  years  ago,  and  at  one  time 
commanded  a  salary  of  a  thousand  dollars  a  week. 
He  was  a  very  handsome  young  fellow,  but  had 
growing  out  from  his  breast  the  body  of  a  small 
female.  He  had  no  muscular  control  of  this  sec- 
ondary body,  but  could  take  hold  of  its  hands  and 
arms  and  work  them  all  about. 

After  they  had  been  playing  a  while  Nat  dis- 
covered that  Laloo  was  cheating;  he  said  nothing 
at  the  time,  simply  throwing  his  hand  down  and 
passing  out.     But  when  the  hand  was  over  and 

135 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

some  one  else  was  dealing,  Nat  leaned  over  to 
Laloo  and  said, 

"  Say,  Kid;  you  do  that  again  and  I'll  give  your 
sister  a  kick  in  the  neck." 


136 


FIREMAN,  SAVE  MY  CHILD 

A  COMIC  OPERA  COMPANY  was 
playing  Moose  Jaw,  Canada.  I  don't 
have  to  say  what  kind  of  a  company  it 
was.  The  fact  that  they  were  play- 
ing Moose  Jaw  is  enough. 

(And  by  the  way,  who  knows  how  that  town 
got  its  name?  And  a  bright  little  boy  at  the  foot 
of  the  class  held  up  his  hand  and  said — "I 
know!  "  And  the  teacher  said,  "  All  right,  Wil- 
lie, you  may  tell  us  how  Moose  Jaw  got  its  name." 
And  Willie  said  — "  It  is  derived  from  an  Indian 
expression  which  means,  '  The-Place-Where-the- 
Man  -  Fixed  -  the  -  Wagon  -  With-a-Moose's-Jaw- 
Bone.'") 

There  was  no  regular  theater  there,  so  the  com- 
pany appeared  in  the  fire  station.  The  engines 
were  run  out  in  the  street  and  the  show  was  given 
there.  There  were  big  corridors  on  the  second 
and  third  floors  where  the  firemen  slept;  there  was 
a  brass  rod  running  down  from  the  upper  to  the 

137 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

lower  floor  for  the  firemen  to  slide  down  in  case 
of  a  fire.  The  firemen  all  slept  up  on  the  third 
floor  this  night,  giving  the  second  floor  up  to  the 
ladies  for  a  dressing  room. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  the  first  act.  The  girls 
were  changing  for  the  second  act.  The  change 
was  complete;  tights  and  all.  And  an  alarm  was 
rung  in.  B-r-r-r-r ! !  went  the  big  gong  down- 
stairs. And  swish !  swish !  went  the  red-shirted 
firemen  down  the  pole.  The  girls  thought  the 
firehouse  itself  was  afire  and  ran  shrieking  around 
the  room  begging  to  be  saved. 

There  were  eighteen  firemen  upstairs  that  night 
and  only  two  of  them  got  to  the  fire. 

On  the  stage  of  the  Orpheum  Theater  in 
Montreal  hangs  this  sign : 


: 


where  there  s  smoke  there  s 
fire.  you  do  the  smoking  and 
i'll  do  the  fireing.     manager. 


sj   I  came  near  leaving  the  stage  while  playing  in 
Montreal  and  going  into  the  portering  business; 

138 


FIREMAN,  SAVE  MY  CHILD 

said  change  being  suggested  by  the  following  ad- 
vertisement in  the  Montreal  Star; 

"  Wanted :     A  porter  to  drive  bus  and  a  dining 

room  girl." 

*      *      * 

GOT  ANY    EXPERIENCED  BABIES? 

Wanted:     Nursing;  experienced  babies.      10X 
Globe  Office. —  (Toronto  Globe.) 


139 


PLAYING  THE  ENGLISH  MUSIC 
HALLS 

AN  American  talking  act  going  over  to 
England  to  play  has  got  a  big  job  on 
hand.  The  trouble  is  going  to  come 
from  a  totally  unexpected  source  too. 
It  is  because  we  do  not  speak  the  language.  We 
say  that  we  speak  English;  but  we  don't;  that  is, 
mighty  little  of  it.  We  speak  mostly  plain,  un- 
adulterated, United  States  language,  which  is  very 
different  from  English.  So  when  we  go  over 
there,  in  addition  to  talking  about  things  that  they 
do  not  understand,  we  are  also  using  a  language 
that  they  don't  know. 

For  instance:  We  opened  up  in  Manchester 
with  a  play  called  The  Wyoming  Whoop.  Now 
out  of  that  title  they  understood  just  one  word  — 
'  The."  They  did  not  know  whether  "  Wyom- 
ing "  was  a  battleship  or  some  patent  skin  food. 
And  "  Whoop  "  was  still  worse. 

During  the   progress   of  the  play  one   of  the 
140 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

characters  speaks  of  having  left  the  day's  ice  on 
the  steps  all  the  forenoon;  I  say  — 

"  Has  that  piece  of  ice  been  out  in  that  Wyom- 
ing sun  all  the  forenoon?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  you  take  a  sponge  and  go  out  and  get 
it." 

After  two  or  three  shows  the  manager  came  to 
me  and  asked  me  what  that  line  about  the  ice 
meant;  was  it  supposed  to  be  funny?  I  told  him 
it  was  in  America.     He  wanted  to  know  why. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  you  know  Wyoming  is  the 
hottest  place  in  America,  don't  you?  " 

"No;  is  it?" 

"  Well  then,  you  know  that  if  you  left  a  piece 
of  ice  out  in  the  sun  all  the  forenoon  it  would 
melt,  don't  you?  " 

"No;  would  it?" 

Upon  investigation  I  found  that  there  was  prob- 
ably not  one  person  in  ten  thousand  in  those  man- 
ufacturing towns  of  England  who  ever  saw  a  piece 
of  ice.  They  didn't  know  but  that  you  could  bake 
it. 

It  took  me  only  three  days  to  discover  that  I 
was  in  wrong  with  The  Wyoming  Whoop.     So 

141 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

the  next  week  in  Liverpool  I  switched  to  Bill 
Biffin's  Baby.  Now  we  were  on  the  right  track. 
We  had  a  subject,  Babies,  that  they  understood 
and  liked.  But  on  the  second  show  I  began  writ- 
ing it  over  —  into  the  English  language.  I  found 
that  in  twenty-four  minutes  I  was  using  thirty- 
two  words  that  they  either  knew  nothing  of,  or 
else  meant  something  entirely  different  from  what 
I  intended  they  should. 

For  instance :  Take  the  words  Trolley  Car. 
An  American  player  spoke  of  having  seen  a  lady 
riding  on  a  trolley,  and  the  audience  went  into 
fits.  The  player  was  astounded;  he  hadn't  told 
his  "  gag  "  at  all  yet — (and,  by  the  way,  it  isn't 
a  "  gag  "  there ;  it  is  a  "  wheeze  " )  —  and  the  au- 
dience was  laughing.  And  then  when  he  finally 
told  his  "  gag  "  not  a  soul  laughed.  Upon  inves- 
tigation he  found  that  over  there  what  he  meant 
by  a  trolley  car  was  "  a  tram."  And  what  they 
called  a  "  trolley  "  was  the  baggage  truck  down 
at  the  railway  station  that  they  hauled  trunks 
around  on. 

Another  of  their  "  gags  "  was  — 

"  I  saw  you  coming  out  of  a  saloon  this  morn- 
ing." 


142 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Well,  I  couldn't  stay  in  there  all  day,  could 
I?" 

Received  with  more  chunks  of  silence. 

He  meant  a  place  where  they  sold  liquor.  He 
should  have  said  "  a  Pub." 

A  "  saloon  "  there  is  a  barber  shop. 

The  ticket  office  is  the  booking  office. 

The  ticket  agent  is  the  booking  clerk  (pro- 
nounced "  dark  "). 

A  depot  is  the  railway  station. 

You  don't  buy  your  ticket;  you  "book  your 
ticket." 

A  policeman  is  a  "  Bobbie." 

You  drive  to  the  left  and  walk  to  the  right. 

An  automobile  is  a  motor  car. 

The  carburetor  is  the  mixer. 

The  storage  battery  is  the  accumulator. 

Gasolene  is  petrol. 

Ask  your  way  and  instead  of  saying  "  second 
street  to  the  left  "  they  will  say  "  second  opening 
to  the  left." 

If  they  bump  into  you  instead  of  saying  "  ex- 
cuse me  "  or  "  pardon  me  "  they  say  "  sorry." 

Your  trunks  are  "  boxes,"  and  your  baggage 
checks  are  "  brasses." 

Your  hand  baggage  is  "  luggage." 
H3 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

I  found  English  audiences  just  as  quick,  just  as 
appreciative  and  even  more  enthusiastic  than  our 
American  audiences  —  if  you  talked  about  things 
they  understood  and  in  words  they  understood. 

But  the  average  American  talking  act  is  talking 
what  might  just  as  well  be  Greek  to  them.  I 
never  realized  until  I  played  in  England  what  an 
enormous  lot  of  slang  and  coined  words  we  Amer- 
icans use. 

Another  thing  that  we  Americans  are  shy  on, 
both  in  speaking  and  singing,  is  articulation.  I 
always  had  an  idea  that  I  enunciated  uncommonly 
clearly  —  until  I  went  over  there,  when  I  learned 
more  about  speaking  plainly  in  three  days  than 
I  had  in  a  lifetime  here. 

You  will  notice  you  can  always  understand  every 
word  and  syllable  uttered  by  an  English  singer. 

One  of  the  funniest  things  I  saw  over  there 
were  English  actors  trying  to  play  "Yankee" 
characters.  The  only  "  Yankee  "  they  had  to  it 
was  to  spit  and  say  "  By  Gosh." 

Upon  the  occasion  of  our  first  show  in  Eng- 
land, at  Manchester,  I  said  to  my  wife, 

"  Now  we  are  closing  the  show,  so  let's  get  made 
up  early  and  watch  the  other  acts,  and  in  that 

144 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

way  we  can  get  sort  of  a  line  on  the  particular 
style  of  humor  that  appeals  strongest." 

So  when  the  show  started  we  were  right  there 
in  the  wings,  watching  and  listening. 

The  first  act  was  a  typical  English  "  Comic 
Singer  "  of  the  poorest  type,  although  we  did  not 
know  that  then.  He  had  a  pair  of  trousers  six 
inches  too  short,  white  hose,  an  old  Prince  Albert 
coat,  buttoned  up  wrong,  a  battered  silk  hat 
(called  a  "  topper,"  by  the  way)  and  a  violently 
red  nose.  His  first  song  was  about  his  recent 
wedding;  he  had  evidently  married  an  old  maid 
of  rather  sad  appearance.  The  first  verse  told 
of  the  wedding  and  the  wedding  dinner;  and  how 
they  then  went  upstairs  to  their  room,  and,  as 
soon  as  they  got  into  the  room  she  wanted  him 
to  kiss  her.      But  he  looked  at  her  and  said  — 

(Chorus) 
"  Not  to-night,   Josephine;   not  to-night; 
Not  to-night;  not  to-night. 
For  I've  had  such  a  lot  of  pork  and  beans; 
Gorgonzola  cheese  and  then  sardines. 
And  now  you  ask  for  a  kiss 
On  a  face  like  yours,  old  kite. 

145 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Well,  I  wouldn't  like  to  spoil  the  lovely 

Flavor  of  the  beans, 
So  not  to-night,  Josephine,  not  to-night." 

Wife  and  I  looked  sadly  into  each  other's  eyes, 
clasped  hands,  and  walked  sadly  to  the  dressing 
room.  We  knew  we  didn't  have  anything  strong 
enough  to  compete  with  that. 

After  three  weeks  "  in  the  Provinces,"  as  they 
call  everything  outside  of  London,  we  went  into 
the  Palace  Theater,  London.  We  had  had  time 
to  learn  the  language  and  sort  of  get  acclimated 
so  we  did  very  well  there. 

But  we  kept  bumping  up  against  new  quirks  in 
the  language.  For  instance,  somebody  asked  me 
if  we  didn't  "  play  two  houses  a  night  in  Ports- 
mouth?" and  I  said  No.  But  I  then  discovered 
that  "  two  houses  a  night  "  did  not  mean  playing 
two  different  theaters  a  night,  but  playing  two 
different  shows  in  the  same  house  each  night. 

I  also  discovered  that  several  words  which  had 
a  perfectly  innocent  meaning  in  America  had  en- 
tirely different  meanings  in  London.  I  nearly  got 
licked  twice  for  using  improper  language. 

I  discovered  that  what  we  would  call  a  Tramp 
146 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

over  here  was  a  Moodier  over  there.  I  could 
see  a  lady  in  the  street  but  I  mustn't  see  her  on 
the  street.  I  could  go  up  the  street  two  squares 
but  I  mustn't  go  up  two  blocks.  I  did  not  get 
my  salary;  I  got  my  treasury.  You  did  not  "  kid  " 
anybody;  you  "  schwanked  "  them  (spelling  not 
guaranteed)  or  perhaps  you  were  "spoofing" 
them. 

The  big  Artists  are  all  "  Toppers  "  or  "  Bot- 
tomers."  A  "  Topper "  is  one  who  is  always 
billed  at  the  top  of  the  list  of  players.  A  "  Bot- 
tomer  "  is  the  act  that  is  considered  next  in  im- 
portance to  the  "  Topper,"  and  is  billed  in  big 
type  at  the  bottom  of  the  billing. 

One  thing  that  makes  it  hard  to  please  an  Eng- 
lish Music  Hall  audience  is  its  widely  different 
classes.  Admission  to  the  gallery  is  from  four 
to  six  cents  while  the  orchestra  seats  are  two 
dollars  and  a  half. 

While  you  can  see  a  first-class  Vaudeville  show 
for  four  cents,  it  costs  you  twenty-four  cents  to 
sit  in  the  gallery  of  most  any  Moving  Picture 
show;  and  sixty-two  cents  downstairs. 

The  Palace  Theater  in  London  is  probably  the 
highest  class  Vaudeville  theater  in  the  world. 
This  is  very  nice,  but  it  has  its  drawbacks.     The 

147 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

audience  applauds  by  gently  tapping  two  fingers 
together  and  nodding  heads  approvingly. 

Oscar  Hammerstein  asked  Mrs.  Cressy  how 
she  liked  the  London  audiences. 

"  First-rate,"  replied  Mrs.  C,  "  only  you  have 
to  look  at  them  to  see  whether  they  are  applaud- 
ing or  not." 

"  Look  at  them?  "  said  Mr.  H.  "  You  have 
to  ask  them." 

George  Whiting  had  just  had  his  hat  cleaned. 

"  How  does  it  look?  "  he  asked  of  his  partner, 
Aubrey  Pringle.  \J 

"  Looks  all  right  enough,"  said  Pringle,  "  but 
it  smells  like  a  monkey  wedding." 
*      *      * 

It  was  Tuesday  afternoon  in  St.  Paul;  the  show 
was  going  very  badly;  the  first  three  acts  had 
gone  on  and  come  off,  without  a  laugh;  then  Frank 
Moran  went  on.  After  he  had  come  off,  and  was 
on  his  way  to  his  room,  one  of  the  ladies  who  had 
been  on  before  him  called  from  her  dressing 
room, 

"  Did  you  succeed  in  waking  them  up,  Mr. 
Moran?  " 

148 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Um  —  yes  —  I  woke  up  a  couple  of  them," 
said  Frank. 

"  What  did  they  do?  "  asked  the  girl. 
"  Went  out,"  said  Frank. 


We  had  received  a  letter  from  a  European 
Booking  Office  requesting  us  to  play  an  engage- 
ment at  Glasgow,  Scotland. 

"  I  would  like  to  know  what  they  think  we 
could  do  in  Scotland,"  I  said;  "  those  chaps  never 
could  understand  me." 

'  Well,  my  goodness,"  said  my  wife,  "  if  they 
can  understand  each  other  they  shouldn't  have 
any  trouble  understanding  us." 

*  *     * 

Probably  the  line  that  has  been  jumbled  up  and 
spoken  wrong  more  times  on  the  stage  than  any 
other  is 

"  I  am  still  fancy  free  and  heart  whole." 

Try  it;  and  see  how  many  ways  there  are  to 

go  wrong  on  it. 

*  *      * 

At  Keith's  Theater  in  Boston  one  week  the 
program  announced  that  two  of  the  acts  to  be 
seen  that  week  were  — 

149 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Cressy  &  Dayne;  The  latest  importation  in 
trained  animal  acts." 

and  — 

"  Barron's  Dogs,  in  Mr.  Cressy's  one  act  play, 
Bill  Biffin's  BabyJ1 


150 


w 


"  WOODIE  " 

"^  "^T  TOODIE,"  of  the  old  musical  act, 
"  Wood  &  Shepard,"  has  grown 
quite  deaf,  and  he  tells  many  funny 
stories  at  his  own  expense.  Upon 
one  occasion  he  came  into  the  Orpheum  Theater 
at  San  Francisco  and  met  Jim  Mclntire,  of  Mw 
Intire  &  Heath. 

11  Hello,  Jim,"  said  Woodie. 
"Hello,   Woodie,"   said   Jim;   "how  are  you 
feeling?" 

'''  Half  past  ten  last  night,"  said  Woodie. 
*.    *     *  ^ 

Woodie  was  playing  at  Pastor's  Theater  in 
New  York.  He  was  living  on  Thirty-eighth 
Street.  One  night  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing he  got  on  to  a  Third  Avenue  elevated  train 
to  go  home.  The  only  other  passenger  in  the 
car  was  a  drunk,  asleep  in  the  corner.  At 
Twenty-third  Street  Charlie  Seamon,  "  the  Nar- 
row Feller,"  got  on. 

151 


/ 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Where  are  you  living?  "  asked  Seamon. 

"Thirty-eighth  Street,"  said  Woodie;  "where 
are  you  living?  " 

"  Hundred  and  Twenty-fifth  Street,"  said  Sea- 
mon. 

"Where?" 

"  Hundred  and  Twenty-fifth  Street,"  said  Sea- 
mon, louder. 

"  Can't  hear  you,"  said  Woodie. 

"  One  Hundred  and  Twenty-fifth  Street/' 
howled  Seamon. 

"  Gee  Whiz,"  yelled  the  drunk,  as  he  scrambled 
to  his  feet,  and  made  for  the  door,  "  I've  gone 
by  my  station,"  and  off  he  got  at  Twenty-eighth 

Street. 

*      *     * 

Woodie  was  practicing  on  his  cornet  in  the  San 
Francisco  Orpheum.  The  management  sent  back 
word  that  they  could  hear  him  way  out  in  front; 
Woodie  laid  down  the  cornet,  thought  a  moment, 
sighed,  and  said, 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  can't  play  very  good  any 
more,  but  I  must  play  loud." 


152 


The  Cressys  in  Ireland. 

A  CORK  MAN 


WE  were  going  out  to  visit  Blarney  Cas- 
tle. Not  that  I  felt  any  particular 
need  of  kissing  the  Blarney  Stone  my- 
self, for  I  had  managed  to  talk  my 
way  through  life  so  far  without  so  doing,  and 
saw  no  reason  to  doubt  my  ability  to  do  so  in  the 
future,  providing  the  United  Booking  Offices 
would  continue  to  book  us.  But  of  course  when 
you  go  all  the  way  from  New  Hampshire  to  Ire- 
land you  just  sort  of  have  to  see  all  these  things. 
And  then,  of  course,  it  would  sound  kind  of  cute 
to  say,  "Oh,  yes;  I  kissed  the   Blarney  Stone." 

153 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

And  I  still  think  it  would  sound  cute;  only  I  am 
not  saying  it.  For  when  I  took  one  look  at  that 
dinky  little  piece  of  rock  stuck  in  the  side  of  a 
wall  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  above  terra 
firma,  and  looked  at  the  hole  I  was  supposed  to 
hang  down  through  to  get  at  it,  I  said  to  myself  — 
"  Not  guilty."  So  any  Lady-Manager  or  Book- 
ing Agent  can  still  converse  with  me  with  per- 
fect safety.     I  have  not  kissed  the  Blarney  Stone. 

But  that  is  not  what  I  started  in  to  tell.  Of 
course  I  could  have  gone  out  there  in  our  automo- 
bile; but  that  would  be  a  fine  way  to  visit  Blarney 
Castle,  wouldn't  it?  Yes,  it  wouldn't.  When 
you  are  in  Ireland  do  as  the  Romans  do.  So  we 
put  the  auto  in  a  garage  (and  over  there  that  word 
does  not  have  any  of  the  French  curlicues  we  put 
on  it,  with  the  last  syllable  accented.  It  is  pro- 
nounced to  rhyme  with  the  word  carriage)  and 
embarked  in  a  jaunting  (or  jolting)  car. 

Our  driver  was  a  regular  lad;  several  years  ago 
I  wrote  a  monologue  for  Marshall  P.  Wilder, 
and  during  this  trip  this  driver  told  me  the  whole 
monologue.  And  then  he  had  some  other  encore 
stuff  too. 

We  were  passing  an  insane  asylum  and  he  said 
that  the  previous  summer  he  had  driven  a  doctor 

154 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

from  Philadelphia  out  to  this  asylum;  and  while 
there  a  very  funny  thing  had  happened.  As  the 
doctor  was  passing  along  through  one  of  the 
wards  —  Now  the  driver  of  an  Irish  jaunting 
car  sits  way  up  in  front,  right  over  the  horse's 
tail,  and  the  passengers  sit  back  of  him,  facing  off 
sideways;  so  the  driver  has  to  turn  his  head  to 
talk  to  the  passengers.  Up  to  this  point  of  his 
story  this  driver  had  been  turned  toward  me,  tell- 
ing his  story  to  me;  but  now  he  happened  to  think 
that  it  would  be  more  polite  to  tell  it  to  the  ladies; 
so  he  turned  around  back  to  me  and  told  the  rest 
of  it  to  them.  I  did  not  hear  a  word  of  it;  but 
when  the  finish  came,  and  the  ladies  laughed,  I 
laughed,  just  to  be  polite. 

And  when  the  laughter  had  died  down  I  said, 
'  That  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  story  I  heard  over 
in  America.  A  man  was  passing  an  insane  asylum 
and  he  noticed  a  clock  up  on  one  of  the  towers; 
but  there  was  some  half  hour's  difference  between 
his  watch  and  the  clock;  and  while  he  was  stand- 
ing there  trying  to  figure  out  which  was  right, 
one  of  the  patients  stuck  his  head  out  of  a  window 
right  beside  the  clock.  The  man  below  saw  him 
and  called  up  to  him, 

"  '  Hey,  there;  is  that  clock  right?  '  " 

*5S 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  And  the  patient  replied, 

"  '  No;  if  it  was  it  wouldn't  be  in  here.' ' 

Honest,  if  I  hadn't  known  I  was  in  Cork,  Ire- 
land, I  should  have  thought  I  was  playing  To- 
ronto, Canada;  there  wasn't  a  ripple;  the  driver 
gave  me  one  disgusted  look,  hit  the  horse  a  cut 
with  the  whip  and  drove  on  in  silence.  My  wife 
looked  at  me  angrily  and  shook  her  head. 

"  All  right,"  I  said  to  myself.  "  You  are  a 
Mutt  audience  and  I  shall  relate  no  more  epi- 
sodes of  a  comic  nature."     And  I  didn't. 

When  we  had  reached  our  rooms  that  night  my 
wife  turned  on  me  and  said  sharply, 

"  What  did  you  do  that  for?  " 

"What  did  I  do  what  for?" 

"  What  did  you  tell  him  that  story  for?  " 

"  Well,  why  in  thunder  shouldn't  I  tell  it  to 
him?  What's  the  matter  with  that  story  any- 
way?" 

She  looked  at  me  curiously  for  a  moment,  then 
said, 

"  Don't  you  know  what  you  did?  " 

"No." 

"  Why  that  was  the  same  story  he  had  just  told 
you." 


156 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

E.  J.  Connelly  has  got  a  summer  home  at  Lake 
Sunapee,  New  Hampshire.  He  also  owns  sev- 
eral building  lots  around  there.  As  building  lots 
without  buildings  on  them  do  not  bring  in  much 
cash,  Edward  was  seriously  contemplating  build- 
ing some  cottages  on  the  lots,  furnishing  and  rent- 
ing them.  I  met  him  one  evening  this  fall  and 
asked  him  how  the  cottages  were  coming  on. 

"  It's  all  off,"  he  said;  "  nothing  doing  in  the 
cottage  line  for  me." 

I  asked  him  what  had  happened  to  change  his 
mind  so  suddenly. 

"  Well,  Bill,"  he  said,  "  you  know  I  am  not  a 
chap  who  goes  hunting  for  trouble;  I'm  nervous; 
I  don't  like  to  be  troubled  with  other  people's 
troubles.  This  afternoon  I  was  over  to  Bob 
Eaton's,  and  you  know  he  has  got  some  cottages 
up  at  the  other  end  of  the  lake  that  he  rents,  fur- 
nished." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  that." 

Ll  Well,"  continued  Connelly,  "  while  I  was  over 
to  Bob's  this  afternoon  a  man  who  has  rented 
one  of  these  cottages  came  down  there.  He  had 
left  his  cottage  and  driven  twelve  miles  down  to 
Bob's  house  to  make  a  kick;  and  what  do  you  sup- 
pose the  kick  was?  " 

157 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Haven't  the  least  idea." 

"  There  wasn't  any  nutmeg  grater  in  the  cot- 
tage. Twelve  miles  to  make  a  five-cent  kick. 
And  my  cottages  would  be  only  two  hundred  feet 
away.  No  landlord  business  for  your  Uncle  Ed- 
ward.    No,  sir." 


158 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE  LAUGH 
GETTERS 

IT  is  a  solemn  business,  this  getting  laughs 
for  a  living.  Supposing  the  people  don't 
laugh.  Then  how  are  you  going  to  live? 
Take  an  act  that  you  have  been  doing  for 
weeks.  Every  afternoon  and  every  night  the  au- 
dience laughs  at  exactly  the  same  lines;  this  goes 
on  night  after  night,  week  after  week  and  city 
after  city.  Then  you  go  into  some  city  like  To- 
ronto or  St.  Paul  and  Hamlet's  soliloquy  would 
get  as  many  laughs  as  you  do.  Now  what  are 
you  going  to  do  ?  Other  players  on  the  bill  are 
getting  laughs  right  along  and  you,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  stage,  are  "  dying  standing  up." 

I  have  had  the  same  experiences  off  the  stage. 
I  once  tried  to  tell  an  old  German  gentleman  in 
St.  Louis  a  story  that  had  been  highly  recom- 
mended to  me  as  being  funny.  It  was  about  a 
man  going  up  to  a  St.  Louis  policeman  and  ask- 
ing him  the  quickest  way  to  get  to  the  Mt.  Olive 

159 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

hospital.  The  policeman  told  him  to  go  over  to 
Grogan's  saloon  and  call  the  bartender  an  A.  P.  A. 

Then  I  waited  for  the  laugh.  And  immedi- 
ately I  knew  I  had  a  Toronto  audience.  The  old 
man  studied  a  moment,  then  said, 

"  Why  did  he  not  tell  him  to  take  an  Olive 

Street  car?  " 

*  *     * 

An  old  lady  from  Brooklyn  was  visiting  us.  I 
told  her  one  of  Lew  Dockstader's  stories.  How 
he  had  a  girl  over  in  Brooklyn.  Her  father  was 
an  undertaker.  And  Lew  could  always  tell  how 
business  was  with  the  old  man  by  the  looks  of  the 
table.  If  he  had  had  a  good  job  lately  there 
would  be  flowers  on  the  table,  and  ice  on  the  but- 
ter. 

I  waited  for  the  laugh.  "  But  the  giggle  that 
he  longed  for  never  came."  The  old  lady  looked 
up  with  a  look  of  interest  and  said, 

"  Did  he  say  what  their  name  was?     Perhaps 

we  knew  them." 

*  *     * 

I  met  a  banker  in  Toronto.  I  tried  to  tell  him 
a  story  referring  to  the  banking  business,  hoping 
against  hope  that  I  might  get  one  laugh  in  that 
city.     I  told  him  about  a  colored  man  who  went 

1 60 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

into  a  colored  bank  down  South  and  wanted  to 
draw  out  his  deposit  of  twenty  dollars  that  had 
been  in  there  for  eight  years.  And  the  colored 
cashier  told  him  he  did  not  have  any  money  in 
there.  That  the  interest  had  eaten  it  up  long 
ago. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  banking  gentleman,  with  a  pity- 
ing smile,  "  very  clever.  But  he  was  wrong,  you 
know;  interest  adds  to  your  principal,  not  de- 
tracts." 

*      *      * 


Playing   Hoboken. 

William  Cahill  was  playing  Hoboken.  Ho- 
bdken  is  entirely  Dutch.  William  is  entirely 
Irish.  Result,  William,  on  his  opening  show,  did 
not  get  a  laugh  or  a  hand.     After  his   act  was 

161 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

over  he  stood  around,  dazed,  for  a  few  minutes; 
then  he  made  his  way  over  to  the  "  peek  hole," 
looked  out  and  sized  up  the  audience  carefully, 
then  turned  away,  muttering  to  himself, 

"  This  is  a  h of  a  place  for  an  Irishman." 


/ 


Carrying  "  The  Old  Man  "  With  Her. 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harry  Foy  carried  a  nurse-maid 
for  their  little  girl.  When  I  came  in  to  the  thea- 
ter I  would  always  go  in  and  speak  to  the  nurse- 
maid and  the  baby.  Then  after  I  was  made  up 
I  would  come  in  again  and  visit  them.  But  the 
maid  never  knew  that  I  was  the  same  fellow;  and 

162 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

along  the  last  of  the  week  she  began  to  wonder 
what  ever  became  of  that  old  chap  she  saw  around 
the  stage  during  the  show,  but  never  afterwards. 
So  she  went  over  to  Miss  Dayne  and  said, 

"  Say,  do  you  carry  that  old  man  with  you  or 
do  you  get  a  new  one  in  every  town?  " 
/  *      *      * 

yi  Well,"  said  Clarence  Drown,  manager  of  the 
Los  Angeles  Orpheum,  "  she  is  one  of  those 
women  you  are  always  glad  to  learn  is  the  wife 
of  some  man  you  don't  like." 

*  *      * 

Yeddie  Niblo,  Jr.,  sat  on  the  floor  in  their 
New  York  home  one  day,  thinking  it  over. 
Finally  he  looked  up  at  his  mother  (Josephine 
Cohan)  and  said, 

"  Say,  Mama,  wouldn't  it  be  nice  if  you  had  a 
regular  husband  instead  of  an  actor  husband? 
Then  perhaps  he  would  be  at  home  sometimes." 

*  *      * 


J 


A  well  known  Booking  Agency  had  just  trans- 
ferred one  of  the  stenographers  from  the  New 
York  ofHce  to  the  Chicago  office.  On  her  first 
morning  in  the  new  office  she  came  over  to  the 
manager  and  said, 

163 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  I  suppose  you  start  the  day  the  same  here 
as  they  do  in  the  New  York  office?  " 

"  Why  —  er  —  yes  —  I  suppose  so,"  said  the 
manager. 

"  Well,  kiss  me  then,  and  let  me  get  to  work." 


164 


ASLEEP  WITH  HER  SWITCH 

A  CERTAIN  young  lady  (and  Abe 
Jacobs  says  he  knows  she  was  a  lady 
because  she  told  him  so,  adding  the 
information   that   any   one   who   said 

she  wasn't  was  a liar)  was  appearing 

at  the  Majestic  Theater  in  Chicago  not  so  very 
long  ago.  Owing  to  conditions  over  which  she, 
apparently,  had  no  control,  the  exact  hours  of  her 
appearance  were  a  little  uncertain.  Her  first  en- 
trance was  rather  a  dramatic  affair.  One  of  the 
other  characters,  hearing  a  noise  behind  a  certain 
door,  would  draw  a  revolver,  aim  it  at  the  door, 
and  say  — 

"  Come  out!     Come  out,  or  I  will  shoot!  " 
Upon  this  occasion  everything  ran  smoothly  — 
up  to  this  point;  the  gentleman  had  drawn  his  re- 
volver and  ordered  her  to  appear. 

"  Come  out!  "  he  said;  "  come  out  or  I  will 
shoot!" 

But  there  was  nothing  doing;  so  he  repeated, 
165 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  Come  out  or  I  will  shoot!  " 

And  still  nothing  doing;  so  for  a  third  time  he 
called, 

"  If  you  don't  come  out  I  will  shoot!  " 

There  was  a  pause,  then,  as  the  curtain  started 
to  descend,  a  disgusted  voice  came  from  the  stage 
manager's  box, 

"  Go  on  and  shoot;  she's  down  in  her  dressing 

room  asleep." 

*      *      * 

A  crowd  was  sitting  around  the  Vaudeville 
Comedy  Club,  and  the  conversation  had  drifted 
around  to  a  discussion  of  the  old-time  Vaudeville 
and  that  of  the  present  day. 

'  Well,  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,"  said  James 
Dolan,  of  Dolan  &  Lenhar,  "  there  didn't  use 
to  be  all  these  divorces  and  separations  among 
the  old-timers.  We  didn't  use  to  think  that  we 
had  to  have  a  new  wife  every  year  or  two;  we 
stuck  to  the  old  ones;  the  ones  that  had  helped 
us  get  our  starts.  Look  at  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mark 
Murphy;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tom  Nawn;  Ryan  & 
Richfield;  Cressy  and  Dayne;  Doland  &  Lenhar; 
Filson  &  Errol.  I  tell  you,  boys,  we  stuck  in  those 
days." 

"  Yes,  but  here;  wait  a  minute,"  spoke  up  Hor- 
166 


•t 

CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

ace  Wright;  "give  us  youngsters  a  chance.  I 
haven't  been  married  but  three  years,  but  I  am 
sticking  as  fast  as  I  can.  Give  me  time,  and  I'll 
get  into  your  class  —  sometime." 

*     *     * 


167 


I  JOIN  THE  SUFFRAGETTES 

I  AM  now  a  suffragette.  I  don't  exactly  un- 
derstand what  it  is  all  about  yet,  but  when  I 
was  up  in  New  Hampshire  a  few  weeks  ago 
I  met  a  very  enthusiastic  lady  who  started  in 
to  convert  me  to  "  the  cause."  Finally,  after  she 
had  talked  fourteen  minutes  without  breathing 
once,  I  got  a  chance  to  speak. 

"  But  wait  a  minute,"  I  said;  "  you  are  wasting 
time.     As  I  understand  this  thing,  what  you  want 
is  equal  rights  —  for  the  sexes;  is  that  correct?  " 
She  said  that  was  it  exactly. 
"  All  right  then,"  I  said,  "  I  am  with  you,  heart 
and  soul;  and,  although  I  haven't  known  it,  I  have 
been  with  you  for  a  long  time.     I  am  willing  to 
fight    shoulder    to    shoulder    with    you    for    this 
glorious  cause,  for  if  there  is  anything  that  will 
get  a  man  equal  rights  with  a  woman  I  am  for  it." 
"  But,"  she  said,  "  you  vote,  don't  you?  " 
"No,"  I  said,  "/  can't!     Martin  Beck  won't 
let  me  of  to  go  home." 

168 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

"  But,"  she  continued,  "  you  can  sit  on  juries, 
and  we  can't." 

"  Well,  good  Lord,"  I  exclaimed,  "  you  don't 
want  to  sit  on  juries,  do  you?  " 

"  We  want  to  do  everything  that  men  do." 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  I  replied;  "it  doesn't 
look  good  to  me;  women  on  a  jury." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Well,  supposing  there  should  be  some  big 
case  on,  and  there  were  six  women  and  six  men 
on  the  jury,  and  the  jury  should  be  locked  up  in 
the  jury  room  all  night.     You  know  darn  well  the 

verdict  would  be  '  Guilty.'  " 

*      *      * 

If  I  had  an  automobile  that  was  in  the  last 
stages  of  decomposition  and  I  couldn't  sell  it  to 
anybody  else  I  think  I  should  try  to  sell  it  to  the 
chap  that  painted  that  automobile  on  the  drop 
curtain  in  the  Garrick  Theater  in  Chicago. 

On  this  drop  curtain  there  is  painted  an  electric 
runabout.  The  chap  that  painted  it  knew  a  good 
deal  more  about  painting  than  he  did  about  auto- 
mobiles. There  isn't  the  slightest  symptom  of 
any  steering  gear  on  it;  the  front  axle  is  a  straight 
iron  rod  without  a  sign  of  any  joint  in  it. 

One  of  the  passengers  is  either  sitting  exactly 
169 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

on  the  top  of  the  steering  bar,  or  else  there  isn't 
any;  and  with  all  four  wheels  set  rigidly  so  it  can't 
turn,  the  car  is  just  leaving  the  roadway  and  plung- 
ing into  a  flower  bed. 

There  is  one  theater  in  Chicago  that  is  going 
to  have  an  awful  time  enforcing  that  "  no  tipping 
allowed  "  rule.  The  Illinois  Theater  has  a  stage 
manager  by  the  name  of  Frank  Tipping. 


X 


My  wife  ottyo  that  all  the  Mormons  are  not  in 

Utah:  only  their  wives  are  not  onJ^O  w  . 

*  *      * 

Jim  Morton  says  Duluth  is  a  nice  little  "  Street 
in  One." 

Fred  Wyckoff  says  the  two  worst  weeks  in  show 

business  are  Holy  Week  and  Milwaukee. 

*  *      * 

"  Tommie  "  Ryan  has  got  the  right  idea.  He 
has  had  himself  appointed  as  a  special  police  offi- 
cer over  at  his  home  in  Hohokus,  N.  J.  (Think 
of  any  one's  having  a  bright  idea  in  a  town  with 
a  name  like  that.)  Now  when  he  gets  lonesome 
he  runs  his  automobile  up  Main  Street  at  full 
speed    (13    miles   an   hour),   arrests   himself   for 

170 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

overspeeding,  collects  two  dollars  for  making  the 
arrest,  then  fails  to  appear  against  himself  and 

the  case  is  dismissed. 

*  *      * 

There  is  no  disputing  the  fact  that  education  is 
a  great  help  to  a  young  man  starting  out  in  the 
world.  Said  bright  thought  being  prompted  by 
the  following  ad,  clipped  from  a  Buffalo,  N.  Y., 
paper: 

"  Help  Wanted:     Automobile  washer,  $18.00. 

Stenographer  and  book  keeper,  $12.00." 

*  *      * 

I  attended  a  newspaper  men's  banquet  in  Roch- 
ester, N.  Y.  One  of  the  speakers,  a  quaint,  funny 
appearing  little  old  chap,  was  introduced  as  a 
man  who  lived  in  a  town  of  six  thousand  popula- 
tion, but  had  a  circulation  of  thirty  thousand  for 
his  paper. 

"  And,"  said  the  toastmaster,  as  he  introduced 
him,  "  I  would  like  to  have  him  tell  us  where  those 
thirty  thousand  papers  go  to." 

The  little  old  chap  arose,  scratched  his  bushy 
head  and  said, 

"  Well  —  it  goes  all  over.  Of  course  most  of 
'em  go  'round  through  New  York  state.  But 
some  of  'em  go  down  to   Massachusetts,   Maine 

171 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


and  New  Hampshire.  Then  a  few  go  down 
South.  I  have  a  few  subscribers  out  through  Cali- 
fornia and  Oregon  and  Washington.  Some  go 
to  Honolulu;  the  Philippines  and  two  or  three  go 
as  far  as  Australia. 

"  And,"  he  continued,  with  a  sigh,  "  along  in 
the  earlier  days  I  used  to  have  considerable  trou- 
ble to  keep  it  from  going  to  Hell." 
*     *     * 


"  Bring   Her   Hither." 

A  young  fellow  up  in  New  Hampshire  has  writ- 
ten a  Vaudeville  playlet  and  sent  it  on  for  my 
approval.     If  he  could  have  kept  up  the  gait  he 

172 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

struck  on  the  first  page  I  should  have  bought  it: 
Maid:     A  lady  waits  without. 
Master:     Without  what? 
Maid;     Without  food  or  raiment. 
Master:     Give  her  food  and  bring  her  hither. 

*  *     * 

The  cost  of  high  living  has  evidently  not  struck 
Philadelphia  yet;  for  in  the  window  of  a  little 
store  on  North  Ninth  Street  there  is  a  sign  — 
"  A  glass  bowl  —  a  goldfish  —  a  tadpole  and  one 
seaweed  —  all  for  8  cents." 

*  *      * 

There  must  have  been  a  crook  around  New 
York  this  winter,  for  hanging  up  over  the  work- 
men's lockers  in  the  garage  where  I  keep  my  car 
is  a  sign  saying  — 

"  Keep  Out.     We  Mourn  Our  Loss." 


173 


THE  PERILS  OF  A  GREAT  CITY 


AT  the  corner  of  44th  Street  and  Broad- 
way, New  York,  the  street  car  tracks,  in 
making  the  turn,  swing  in  quite  near  to 
the  curb;  in  fact,  there  is  just  room 
enough  for  a  single  vehicle  to  drive  between 
them. 

One  night  as  my  wife  and  I  were  driving  down 
in  our  automobile  we  reached  this  corner  just  as 
an  uptown  car  and  a  downtown  car  were  meet- 
ing there.  The  uptown  car  stopped  to  let  off 
a  passenger.     The  down  car  slowed  down,  so  as 

174 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

not  to  run  down  anyone  coming  around  the  back 
of  the  uptown  car.  And,  not  to  be  outdone  in 
caution,  we  slowed  down  also. 

An  old  Irish  lady  got  off  the  uptown  car.  She 
had  an  armful  of  bundles,  and  had  on  a  sailor 
hat,  with  no  hat  pins  in  it;  so  that  she  had  to 
keep  tossing  her  head  to  keep  it  balanced  and 
straight.  She  walked  around  the  back  of  the  up- 
town car  —  just  in  season  to  walk  in  front  of  the 
downtown  car.  The  motorman  sounded  his  bell, 
"  Bang!  Bang!  "  The  old  lady  gave  a  yell  and 
a  jump  —  and  landed  right  in  front  of  our  car. 
I  sounded  the  horn,  "Squawk!  Squawk!"  and 
she  gave  another  yell  and  another  jump,  off  to 
the  side,  and  the  sailor  hat  fell  off,  right  in  front 
of  our  car. 

The  old  lady  started  to  go  back  for  the  hat; 
I  slammed  on  the  brakes  and  threw  out  the 
clutch.  When  I  threw  out  the  clutch  the  engine 
raced  for  a  moment  — "  W -h-i-r-r-r-r !  "  Again 
the  old  lady  yelled  and  jumped  back.  And 
standing  in  the  gutter,  she  shook  her  fist  at  me 
and  screamed  — 

" you,  don't  you  boomp  me!  " 

"  Go  on  and  get  your  hat,"  T  said,  "  I  won't 
bump  you." 

175 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Cautiously  she  stooped  over  and  reached  for 
the  hat.  And  at  that  moment  a  messenger  boy 
on  a  bicycle  came  tearing  around  the  corner  out 
of  44th  Street,  and  struck  the  old  lady  where  she 
was,  at  that  moment,  the  most  prominent.  In 
an  instant  boy  —  old  lady  —  bicycle  —  bundles 
and  sailor  hat  were  all  mussed  up  together  in  the 
gutter.  She  had  dodged  two  trolley  cars  and  an 
automobile,  only  to  be  run  down  by  a  boy  on  a 
bicycle. 

As  I  drove  on,  I  gave  one  glance  back;  and  the 
bundles,  hat  and  bicycle  lay  in  the  gutter,  while 
the  boy  was  on  the  dead  run  up  Broadway  with 
the  old  lady  after  him. 


176 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 


DO  YOU  BELIEVE  IN  SIGNS? 

(These  are  all  actual  signs  that  I  have  come  across 
in  my  travels.) 

Paterson,    N.    J.     "  Henry    Worms.     Vegeta- 
bles." 

Chicago.      "  I.  D.  Kay.      Fresh  Vegetables." 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.     "  Kick,  the  Printer." 
Pittsburg,  Pa.     "  Daub,  the  Painter." 
Dalton,  Ga.      "  Tapp,  the  Jeweler." 
Washington,  D.  C.     "  Shake,  the  Grocer." 
Oakland,  Cal.      "  Fake,  Jeweler." 
Philadelphia.      "  Dr.  Aker,  Dentist." 
Oakland,  Cal.      "  Dr.  Muchmore,  Dentist." 
New  York,  N.  Y.     "  Mr.  Champoo,  Dentist." 
Chicago.      "  Artificial  Eyes.     Open  all  Night." 
Seattle,  Wash.     "  Artificial  Limbs.     Walk  In." 
Buffalo,    N.    Y.     ''English    &    Irish.     Furni- 
ture." 

Denver,  Colo.     "  Painless  Dyeing." 
Salt  Lake  City.      "  Come  In:     The  Soda  Wa- 
ter's Fine." 

Oakland,  Cal.     "  Letts-Love,  Florists." 
Seattle,  Wash.      "  Dr.  Fixott,  Dentist." 
Boston.     "  B.  Stiller,  Photographer." 
177 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

Boston.     "  Dr.  Capwell,  Dentist." 

Hartford,      Conn.     "  Best     &     Smart,      Dry 
Goods." 

Boston.     "  Neal    &    Pray,    Religious    Publica- 
tions." 

Newark,  N.  J.     A  millinery  store  announces  — 
"  We  Trim  Free  of  Charge." 

San   Francisco.     "  Coats,   Pants  &  Vests,  one 
half  off." 

Denver.     "  The  Rothchild  Cigar.     Ten  cents 
or  two  for  a  quarter." 

Paterson,  N.  J.     "  Coffins  made  and  repaired." 

Portland,  Ore.     "  Neer  &  Farr,  Coal  Dealers." 

Paris,    Ky.     "  Ice    Cream   &   Washing    Done 
Here." 

Spokane,   Wash.     "  Bed   Bath   &   Booze    15c. 
All  Nations  welcome  but  Carrie." 

Louisville,   Ky.     "Beds    I5cts.     Hot   cat  fish 
all  night." 

Atlantic    City.     "  Shoes    Shined   Inside.     Also 
Ladies." 

Spokane,  Wash.     "  Ole  Johnson  Him  Harness 
Maker." 

Brownsville,  Ark.     "  H.  Robinson,  Tacks  Col- 
lector." 

178 


THE  PERILS  OF  A  GREAT  CITY 

Chicago.     "  Precious  Stones  Setted." 

Milwaukee.  "  Sweet  Pickles  and  N.  Y.  Sun- 
day papers  for  sale  here." 

Denver,  Colo.  "  Hot  Roast  Chicken  served 
from  1 1-30  until  gone." 

Buffalo,  N.  Y.  "  Shoes  Repaired;  neat;  Quick 
&  Well." 

Chicago  (in  the  Ionia  Cafe).  "  No  meals  ex- 
changed." 

Philadelphia  (in  a  Japanese  cafe).  "No 
suiciding  Allowed  Here." 

Chicago.     "  Broken  lenses  duplicated." 

Platte  Canyon,  Neb.  "  Private  Grounds. 
You  must  not  shoot  or  pick  the  flowers  without 
permission." 


179 


CLOSING  NUMBER 

AS  I  don't  know  whether  this  effort  is  go- 
ing to  get  applause  enough  to  take  a 
bow,  I  am  going  to  finish  with  a  story 
that  has  got  two  bows  in  it. 
There  was  an  old  English  actor  who  had  strug- 
gled all  his  life  for  recognition;  and  never  got  it. 
He  had  never  been  in  a  decent  company  —  never 
had  a  decent  part  in  his  life.  And  for  years  he 
had  been  reading  of  the  wonderful  success  many 
of  the  English  players  were  meeting  with  in 
America,  so  at  last  he  sailed  for  that  Land  of 
Promise. 

But  it  was  the  same  sad  story  it  had  been  at 
home.  And  dollar  by  dollar,  and  penny  by  penny 
his  money  went  until  at  last  he  was  penniless. 
And  then  came  that  longing  for  HOME  that  can- 
not be  resisted.  And  one  dark  night  he  went  down 
and  stowed  away  on  a  steamer  bound  for  Liver- 
pool. 

The  next  morning  he  was  discovered,  and  put  to 
180 


CONTINUOUS  VAUDEVILLE 

work  helping  in  the  kitchen.  This  was  the  last 
straw;  there  he  sat,  in  his  fur  lined  overcoat  and 
silk  hat,  peeling  potatoes.  That  night  he  decided 
to  end  it  all.  So  at  midnight  he  said  "  Farewell 
vain  world  "  and  went  over  the  rail. 

"  Man  overboard!  "  cried  the  Lookout. 

The  life  belts  were  thrown  over.  The  power- 
ful electric  search  lights  were  thrown  upon  the 
waters.  These  life  belts  as  soon  as  they  strike 
the  water  begin  to  burn  a  bright  red  light. 

The  poor  old  actor  came  up  for  the  last  time  — 
and  just  between  the  two  life  belts  with  their  red 
fires  burning.  At  the  same  moment  the  dazzling 
stream  of  light  from  the  search  light  fell  full 
upon  him.  The  old  man  opened  his  eyes;  and 
a  look  of  ineffable  joy  came  over  his  face.  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  in  the  spot  light. 

So  he  took  two  bows  —  and  went  down  — 
forever. 


CURTAIN 


181 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


.* 


ill  /Rir> 


**«»*■  «»  vMt*«>  fppi/; 


0B?i?af 


us* 


^'^2  01994 
QL0CT1?  m 


;  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  384  879    1 


